


A Distance of 2,800 Miles

by Danica_Dust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banana Yellow Prius, Castiel Has Patience (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean/Cas Pinefest 2020 (Supernatural), Denial of Feelings, Ferris Wheels, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rescue Missions, Road Trips, Sam Winchester is Missing, Secrets, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danica_Dust/pseuds/Danica_Dust
Summary: Naturally, the moment Dean decides it’s a good time to give the Impala’s engine a tune-up, he and Castiel get called away to a hunt in New York City. Now that wouldn’t have been so bad, except immediately after they complete the job, he receives a mysterious call from Sam.It seems his brother may have gotten himself stuck in a situation all the way on the other side of the country in Los Angeles, and to top it off, the antique car Dean borrowed from the bunker breaks down. Being a good friend, when Castiel offers to handle the car rental himself, Dean lets him, and suddenly, it’s just him and Cas in a banana-yellow Prius with a 2,800-mile road trip ahead of them.What could go wrong?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 29
Kudos: 219
Collections: Dean/Cas Pinefest 2020





	1. An Alarming Call

**Author's Note:**

> I am so happy to post for this challenge! A big thank you to the mods for making Dean/Cas Pinefest 2020 a reality!
> 
> I have been so very lucky to pair with the amazingly talented Amethyst Shard! Thank you to the ends of the earth for your absolutely gorgeous artwork! Please, everyone check it out -- [HERE](https://amethyst-shard.tumblr.com/post/615433687675420672/my-deancaspinefest-art-for-danicadusts-amazing) \-- 
> 
> And finally, a major shout-out and thank you to my tireless beta, [thefandomsinhalor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefandomsinhalor/pseuds/thefandomsinhalor), who, while editing my stuff, has also taken on a bazillion challenges of her own. l truly believe thefandomsinhalor has not stopped writing/editing since we signed up for our first challenge together, so thank you!
> 
> And with that, let me present: A Distance of 2,800 Miles!

The black 1967 Chevy Impala sat in the Men of Letter’s bunker’s underground garage with its hood propped open.

Under that hood, Dean Winchester was bent over, listening to Zeppelin turned way up, with a wrench in hand, a rag stuck in his back pocket, and a half-disassembled engine spread out before him.

He was in Nirvana.

As Dean tinkered, however, he found more and more issues. After a while, he felt like he was playing Wack-A-Mole with his _Baby_ —each time he thought he had fixed the issue, another one just popped up. Dean knew he should have overhauled the Impala’s engine years ago, and normally he loved working on the old car, but he just hadn’t had the time.

He sighed, yet his good mood wasn’t dampened in the least.

Yesterday, at Mary’s suggestion after she had taken a peek under the hood—to Dean’s embarrassment—he had set to work with her promise that she would look after anything that came up.

As a result, she was off on a case in New York City and Dean suddenly had a few days off to do one of the things he enjoyed most: working on _Baby_.

When the door to the garage creaked open and footsteps came up behind him, Dean continued staring down at her bare innerworkings, working out a particularly tricky issue in his mind, as he said, “What’s up, Cas?”

There weren’t many people currently in the bunker, so one could assume that Dean was simply making an educated guess as to who was behind him, but Dean knew the truth. He’d recognize the sound of Castiel’s stride anywhere. After all, he was Dean’s best friend of ten years and his favourite angel (not that there was much competition since the majority of angels were douchebags).

When Castiel’s footsteps stopped beside him, Dean tilted his head up from his half-bent position to look at his friend, just as Castiel held out Dean’s cell phone. Abruptly realizing that his face was level with Castiel’s waist and _other parts_ , Dean quickly focused his attention on the phone before his face could flush.

_Friend. Right…_

“You left it in the kitchen,” Castiel said in his usual gravelled voice, which always managed to give Dean shivers whenever it wasn’t making his skin heat instead. “It’s Bobby.”

For a split second, Dean’s breath caught in his chest before he reminded himself, again, that this was the Bobby of the Apocalypse world, not their Bobby. No, of course it wasn’t.

_Stupid,_ Dean scolded himself.

The Bobby that had become like a father to him and Sam was lounging away in his own personal slice of Heaven.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean responded. Without straightening but remaining focused on Castiel’s outstretched hand and not beyond, he took the phone.

“Hey, Bobby,” he said, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear so that he could use both hands to loosen a stuck bolt. He turned his attention back to _Baby_ , purposefully pretending that Castiel wasn’t still standing there, inches from his hip. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got a problem,” Bobby said, sounding weary.

Dean placed the freed bolt to the side and straightened, all thoughts of Castiel’s proximity abruptly wiped away.

“What happened?” Dean demanded.

“You know that vamp nest Mary and I’ve been hunting? The one using a circus as a cover to feed off of children?”

Dean grimaced. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, we’ve tracked the nest to New York City, but they have our scent now, so we can’t make a move on them without them smelling us coming a mile away and fleeing the state.”

Dean smirked. “Sounds like you need some assistance.”

“If you and Sam can flush them out—” Bobby was suddenly interrupted by Mary’s voice in the background, but Dean couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.

“Sam’s on a case in California with Charlie,” Dean said.

“Right, right,” Bobby said, his voice sounding odd. His mother was still talking in the background. “Mary just reminded me.”

Just then Mary’s voice came on the phone.

“Hi, Dean,” she was saying.

“Hey, Mom.” It was still hard to believe that he could actually say those words. That Mary was there, alive. It was rare for any kind of miracle to come to the Winchesters without strings attached. Usually very, very bad strings.

But so far, Mary’s return had been just that. A miracle. And Dean was grateful for it every single day.

“Take Castiel with you, sweetie.”

“Cas?”

Beside him, Castiel met Dean’s eyes with his own mildly curious look. Dean glanced away first.

“Everyone needs backup,” Mary explained, in a very motherly tone. “No one hunts alone. Even you.”

_I wasn’t arguing,_ Dean silently remarked. Nobody could replace Sam during a hunt, but Castiel was a very, very close second. Not to mention that it allowed Dean to spend some extra time with Castiel.

Just the two of them.

Out loud, Dean snorted, but agreed. “Alright. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Call me when you arrive,” Mary insisted. “Drive safe.”

“I will. Bye, mom.”

“Love you.”

Dean cleared his throat, eyes darting to Castiel, who was still listening, then rapidly away again.

“Love you, too.”

Dean hung up and turned to face the angel standing next to him. “Looks like we’re taking a trip to New York.”

With _Baby_ temporarily out of commission, Dean had picked the 1955 lime green Ford Thunderbird from the bunker’s line up of cars, and they had transferred what they thought they might need from the Impala’s trunk to the convertible.

Nothing could replace the Impala in Dean’s heart and it killed him inside that he had to leave her behind in such a state, but, damn, did the Thunderbird try its hardest.

With the top down, cruising along the interstate, his own rock collection blasting through the speakers, Dean had no complaints.

Between the wind and the music, conversation was unsustainable, but Castiel didn’t seem to mind. He appeared content to simply watch the scenery pass by from the passenger seat as Dean drove.

Every once in a while, Dean caught Castiel’s blue eyes watching him, his face seeming to be deep in thought, but Dean pretended he hadn’t noticed. Pretended that his own eyes hadn’t shifted from the road to Castiel in the first place.

When night fell, Castiel settled further into his seat and shut his eyes.

Dean could remember a time when Castiel had appeared tireless and all-powerful, but that admittedly epic introduction seemed a very long time ago now.

Castiel didn’t need sleep like a human, but Dean could tell that Castiel got tired whenever he pushed himself for too long without taking some sort of rest to recover.

The signs weren’t overtly obvious, but Dean noticed.

He knew that it had been a few days since Castiel had last taken a break and he had used quite a bit of grace during their last hunt, so Dean guessed that he was probably catching some shut eye before taking over the wheel from Dean. As used as Dean was to driving long distances without stopping, even he knew that he couldn’t do a twenty-two-hour drive in one shot, so Castiel was going to drive part of the way.

It was a rare thing when Dean actually got to see the angel asleep. He turned down the music and let him rest.

He wondered if Castiel dreamed, and if so, what he dreamed about.

It was early morning when Dean finally pulled over.

He climbed out of the car and stretched his muscles that were stiff from the drive and the morning chill. It was late summer, but during the drive he’d still had to shake his hands out a few times from the cold as the night had passed.

While he was debating putting the top back up to ward off the cold wind—though that would be such a shame for a beautiful car like this—Castiel roused from his sleep.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said with a half-grin.

Castiel blinked slowly. He glanced around at the sky only just starting to lighten in the east. “It’s nearly morning.” He frowned at Dean. “You were supposed to wake me shortly after midnight so we could switch.”

Dean shrugged nonchalantly, keeping the grin on his face. “I was still good to drive and it was a nice night.” He moved around to the passenger side of the Thunderbird. “Your turn to drive. My turn to sleep.”

Castiel opened the car door and stepped out in front of him. Imitating Dean, he also stretched, and Dean had to take a stumbling step back as Castiel, eyes closed and yawning, suddenly filled his entire view.

Dean stared as Castiel’s trench coat was stretched taut over his lean frame.

Or, rather, the frame of his vessel, Dean reminded himself. Not that Jimmy’s soul was there anymore.

He shook his head to clear it of vague, half-formed thoughts about his friend that he had no desire to examine too closely.

Finished stretching, Castiel moved gracefully around Dean, leaving Dean to drop gratefully into the vacated passenger seat.

It was still warm from Castiel’s body heat, and Dean instinctively let his body sink further into the warmth, a stark contrast to the brisk early morning air.

He waited for Castiel to appear on the driver’s side, but then heard the trunk open. Curious, he shifted around and saw Castiel rummaging through the back.

Then the trunk was closed, Castiel was moving to the car door, and suddenly a bundle of fabric was placed on Dean’s lap.

Dean stared at the blanket, which he recognized as one of the generic, fleece ones from the bunker. His eyes rose to Castiel, who climbed into the car and inserted the key. The engine turned over with a growl.

Castiel’s eyes flickered to Dean’s questioning gaze as he shifted the car into gear.

“I know you won’t let me put the top up on this car,” Castiel explained, “but you really should keep warm.”

Dean spread the blanket over himself and snuggled down, the warmth of the blanket over him and Castiel’s phantom heat in the seat beneath him keeping him nice and toasty.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled sincerely.

Castiel simply nodded, pulled back onto the road, and they were on their way again.

Dean drifted off to sleep within seconds.

Dealing with the vampires took practically no time at all.

As soon as they had arrived in New York later that afternoon, Dean had called Mary, only to find that she and Bobby already had a good idea where the vamps were holed up.

Her tip, it turned out, had been a good one, and he and Castiel were able to chase out the nest, right into Mary and Bobby’s waiting machetes, dusting many of the vamps themselves in the process.

Case closed, the four of them returned to the motel Mary and Bobby had been staying at.

“We’re going to head back to the bunker,” Mary was saying to Dean as Castiel checked them into a room. “With Sam in California, one of us should be there, and Jack shouldn’t be left alone for too long.”

Dean nodded absently, as he listened to the conversation between Castiel and the motel’s receptionist. If the woman batted her eyes one more time at Castiel, he would—

_I would what?_

_Do nothing, that’s what,_ Dean told himself, shaking his head. Castiel was his friend and the angel deserved to get whatever action he wanted.

Mary gave him an odd look and Dean refocused.

“We’ll just catch some z’s and then we’ll be heading back, too,” he told Mary.

Mary opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted when Castiel approached with the room key.

“All set? Great. Let’s go. I’m exhausted,” Dean said quickly, avoiding Mary’s stare. “We’ll see you at home,” he said with a backward wave, already pushing Castiel out the motel office door.

In their motel room, Dean dropped his duffel bag on the floor and went to the window. He caught a glance of Mary and Bobby conversing casually between Mary’s truck and the Thunderbird, which were parked next to each other, before he pulled the curtains shut against the last light of the setting sun.

Dean blinked blearily at the bedside alarm clock as he reached to grab his phone: 3:02 in the god-damn morning.

He peered at his caller ID through sleep-deprived eyes: Sam.

“You better be dying, Sam, or I’m about to kill you.”

“…Dean…help…”

He rocketed up in bed, sleepiness gone in an instant. His big brother instinct on over-drive.

“Sam? What’s wrong?”

“…trapped…service…bad…help…” The connection was terrible. In addition to Sam’s voice cutting in and out, there was an insane amount of static coming across the line.

“Cas,” Dean snapped at the sleeping form in the other bed. Sheets rustled, but Dean’s attention was back on Sam. “Tell me where you are, Sammy.”

“Under…pier…hurry—” The line clicked and went dead.

Dean cursed. Dread churning in his stomach, he tried calling Sam back.

Nothing.

He dialed Charlie’s number.

Voicemail.

With a press of a button, he started calling every phone he knew in the bunker. No one answered. Jack must have been out somewhere, and Mary and Bobby must not have been back yet.

His stomach roiled more violently and his skin chilled.

Next, he called Mary’s cell. She picked up after the third ring.

“Dean? What is it?”

“Sam’s in trouble. He just called, but the connection was terrible so I didn’t get much.”

“What about Charlie?”

“I tried. No answer. Where are you?”

“We’re just outside Lebanon.”

“Thank—”

“Lebanon, New Hampshire, Dean,” Mary interrupted. “Jack called about a case he found and we re-routed north-east from New York. He’s out at the local library researching it now.”

His cell phone bumped against his ear and he realized that his hands were shaking. He lowered the phone and put it on speakerphone.

“Then someone has to fly out there. To California. I can’t—the FBI—Driving, I won’t—” Dean swallowed past a lump that had formed in his throat. “I might not make it in time.”

A hand clasping his shoulder made Dean jump. His eyes latched onto Castiel, who was observing him worriedly. Castiel’s grip was firm and reassuring.

Sammy was in danger, yet Dean felt his tense muscles relax under Castiel’s touch, if only slightly.

“Dean.” Even over the phone, Mary’s voice was commanding, as if she might give him a time-out at any moment. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. Jack can’t use his powers, so that’s out. Perhaps Bobby and I can fly—Hold on.”

An anxious pause.

“Okay, bad news. Bobby just checked the airlines and the closest major airport is back in New York. We’ll have to turn around and drive back.”

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. A cold sweat was creeping across his skin.

A sudden thought came to him and he glanced up. “Cas, you could go ahead—”

But Castiel raised his hand in a plaintive gesture. “I’m under the impression that proper documentation is required to fly, which I don’t have with me.”

Dean swore.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Mary’s voice came soothingly over the phone. “Bobby and I are turning around now. Somebody else can handle our case. You and Cas get driving yourselves. I’ll reach out to all of our contacts to see if anyone’s closer to Los Angeles who can help out.”

Dean’s eyes closed as he took comfort in his mother’s confidence.

“Thanks, we’re leaving now.”

“Good. I’ll call you later. I love you, Dean.”

“Love you, too.”

Dean rapidly packed his duffel, tossing his overnight things in haphazardly, as he described Sam’s worrying call to Castiel.

Only a minute later, the duffel was in the Thunderbird’s trunk and he was climbing into the driver’s seat.

The sky was still pitch black and there was no one else outside at this ungodly hour.

As Castiel slid into the passenger side, Dean turned the key in the ignition.

The engine whined in protest and didn’t turn over.

Dean frowned at the dash.

He gave the Thunderbird some gas and tried again.

No luck.

Dean cursed under his breath, popped the hood from inside, and shoved the car door back open to take a look at the T-bird’s mechanics. Instantly, he was regretting that he hadn’t given her a full tune-up, rather than just a brief inspection, before they had left for New York.

He also missed _Baby_ …

Castiel stepped up beside him, tapping at his phone, as Dean was using the light from his own phone to familiarize himself with the vehicle.

“There is a car rental facility that opens in—” Castiel paused, “three hours. It is just a few miles from here.”

Dean wasn’t really paying attention, focused as he was on the engine before him and holding down his panic about Sam.

“Mm-hm,” he murmured.

“Do you think it’s worth it to go see if they have anything available. Or will you be able to fix this one?”

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean snapped. “I haven’t even figured out what’s wrong yet.”

Castiel wisely chose to back away then.

_Dammit, dammit, dammit,_ Dean chanted to himself. _What the hell is wrong with this car?_

He moved to the trunk to grab the few basic tools he had brought with him, hoping that what he had would be enough to fix whatever was wrong.

And a half hour later, he had finally pinpointed their issue.

“Dammit!” Dean swore, unhooking the hood strut and slamming the Thunderbird’s hood with a solid thunk.

Castiel lifted his head from his hands, in which it had been resting as he had sat on the bench outside the motel during the entire time Dean had been working.

“Did you figure out the problem?” he asked cautiously.

“Oh, I figured it out alright,” Dean said acidly.

“What’s broken?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“What?” Castiel stood and approached, head tilted in confusion.

Dean let out a bitter chuckle. “The starter relay’s gone. As in, actually gone. Someone stole the damn thing.”

Castiel frowned. “Why would someone do that?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Who knows. Maybe someone strolling by spotted the car and decided to make sure it would still be here when they came back to steal it. Because I can’t even replace the damn part. Not easily, anyway. It’s not like they manufacture this particular relay anymore. I would have to order one.” And Dean smacked the hood of the car. “Dammit, why didn’t we just take your truck.”

Staring down at the source of his frustration, Dean felt Castiel place a hand on his shoulder.

“There’s still the car rental place,” Castiel said. “We’ll get a new car and we’ll get to Sam.”

Dean didn’t trust himself to speak through his anger and irritation, so he just nodded.

“It’ll still be a couple hours before they open though.”

Another nod. Finally, Dean managed to say, “I—I’ll make the arrangements for the T-bird. Get it towed to a shop or a storage place. Maybe Bobby can find a relay, or at least find a way to get it back to the bunker.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Castiel agreed. “While we wait, you should eat something. I think there was a vending machine—”

“Not hungry, Cas.” The last thing Dean wanted was food. His stomach was roiling enough as it was. He just wanted to be on the road and on his way to Sam.

“Dean—”

“I said, I’m not hungry. Drop it.”

Castiel looked hurt at his harsh words, so to avoid seeing that agonizing expression, Dean stomped over to the bench Castiel had been sitting on earlier and dropped onto it.

With a sigh, Castiel sat down beside him, and Dean pulled out his phone, pointedly ignoring the angel.

The tow truck company had promised to show up around the time the car rental place was due to open. So Castiel took a taxi alone to pickup their future rental car, while Dean waited to hand over the Thunderbird’s keys.

Sure enough, the tow truck appeared a few minutes after Castiel had been picked up, and Dean was left with just their bags.

About an hour later, Dean heard sound of a car driving slowly into the motel parking lot. Staring gloomily down at the ground, he sighed resignedly.

But then he looked up and his gaze found the still-running car that Castiel was just stepping out of.

His jaw dropped as Castiel walked nonchalantly toward him. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Dean said in disbelief.

Castiel paused and glanced back at the rental car. When he turned back to Dean, he was frowning, his head tilting in that way it did whenever Castiel was confused.

“Why would I be joking?” Castiel asked. “This is a perfectly adequate vehicle that will save us on gas, as it is significantly more fuel efficient than sports cars or trucks.” He added, almost as an afterthought, “It was also the only vehicle they had left.”

“It’s a Prius. A _banana yellow_ Prius.”

“Yes?”

_Why do you do this to me, Cas?_

“Never mind,” Dean said, his voice a little stiff. “It’s fine.”

He had to walk past Castiel to get to their bags, resting at the end of the bench, and as he did so, in his peripheral vision, he caught Castiel giving him a look that said, _I know something’s going on and I will find out what._

_Castiel should really patent that look,_ he thought.

Dean grabbed his duffel bag and made his way to the super-tiny, super-bright Prius with it.

When he failed to open the Prius’ trunk, he turned around, only to find Castiel standing immediately behind him, watching him.

Dean nearly stumbled. “Cas,” Dean choked out. He swallowed. “The trunk?”

Castiel dug the keys out of his pocket and pressed the button on the fob, while Dean took a half-step back to regain some personal space and his breath.

Dean shifted the duffel’s strap off his shoulder and the bag knocked awkwardly against his thigh, rustling some of the contents inside.

_Well, I wanted some alone time with Cas,_ Dean conceded to himself as he stowed his duffel in the trunk. _Though perhaps not in as close quarters as these._

At least his ever-growing worry for Sam would serve as a poignant distraction.

As he squeezed into the driver’s seat, it was a tight fit. As Dean had known it would be.

In his mind, Dean could admit that an SUV may have been overkill for just the two of them, but on the other hand, the bite-sized Prius offered little leg room and a distinct lack of options to maintain the semblance of personal space between them.

Had he mentioned that it was also _banana yellow_?

Dean sighed once more, an increasingly frequent occurrence, as he shifted the car into reverse and turned it around in the parking lot. The moment they hit the road, he rolled down the windows and prayed it didn’t rain on their journey, or he just might get claustrophobic.

Beside him, he was acutely aware of the wind ruffling Castiel’s hair.

And so, began Dean and Castiel’s 2,800-mile journey from New York City to Los Angeles.


	2. Pit Stop

The sun had already risen by the time they had left the motel parking lot, and they were very quickly reminded what happened in a major metropolitan city on a weekday morning: traffic.

Because naturally, as Dean had stated in an aggravated tone, they were attempting to navigate New York City in the middle of the morning rush hour.

At least they were leaving the city, rather than trying to get into it, so that helped a _tiny_ bit, from Castiel’s observation. But even then, they were stop-and-go with no end in sight.

And from his position in the passenger seat, Castiel could tell that Dean’s frustration with their lack of momentum was mounting. His anger was visibly boiling right below the surface of his concentration on the road.

His fingers were tight on the steering wheel. His posture in the seat was stiff. His movements were progressively getting jerkier and more aggressive.

After the first half hour, Dean was cutting people off with little regard and earning himself plenty of honks from the horns of the other motorists.

Not to mention all the rude gestures from drivers and pedestrians alike.

And then, nearly an hour in, Dean made a particularly dangerous turn that had Castiel clutching the Prius’ dash in alarm, prepared to… Well, to do whatever he could to prevent Dean from being injured if they crashed.

“Dean,” Castiel said, his voice low in warning.

“It’s fine, Cas. I’ve got it under control.”

“You’re being reckless.”

Dean remained silent, making another sharp turn during a yellow light. A woman about to cross the road shook her fist at them.

“If you wreck this car, even if we emerge unscathed, it will only create even more of a delay.”

“We won’t crash,” Dean insisted stubbornly.

At the rate they were going, Castiel didn’t agree.

And five minutes later, he was nearly proven right.

A yellow light had just turned red as they approached an intersection, but Dean powered through anyway. Another impatient driver, who had been waiting in the intersection to turn past their lane onto the side street as the yellow ended, started to move as Dean drove past.

It was only thanks to Dean’s instincts and excellent driving skills that allowed him to expertly swerve around the incoming car without getting t-boned.

But it had been a close call. Too close, in Castiel’s opinion. “Dean, slow down,” he ordered. “Neither Sam nor Charlie would not want you killing yourself to get to them.”

“We’re fine, aren’t we? I can handle this.”

Castiel simply stared hard at Dean until the hunter glanced over at his silence.

Catching his gaze, Dean’s green eyes widened slightly at Castiel’s expression and he swallowed as he looked back at the road.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, finally acceding. And the Prius stopped making mad dashes into oncoming traffic.

Relieved, Castiel leaned back in his seat and let go of the Grace he had been holding under the surface of his skin to heal Dean if needed.

Once they had escaped the traffic jam, the remainder of the first leg of their journey was uneventful.

Dean’s disgruntlement dissipated once they hit the open highway and left the traffic of New York behind, and he visible relaxed, loosening his grip and posture.

The 2020 Prius didn’t have a tape deck, so Dean couldn’t play his classic rock, which he complained heartily about. But to Castiel, the radio sounded great over the high-quality speakers, and Dean had been able to locate an acceptable station, so all should have been well.

However, Dean never sang along nor even turned up the volume, which remained at an average decibel level.

That wasn’t too surprising though. Castiel couldn’t imagine how worried Dean must be about Sam.

In silence, they had watched the sun rise higher and higher in the rear-view mirror, gradually moving into the western sky in front of them.

Dean’s worry for Sam clouded the atmosphere within the car, like a physical presence, and Castiel wished he could do anything to help relieve the tension.

Unfortunately, stuck in the vehicle, there was little in the way of options.

_Food_ , Castiel finally decided. _Food makes Dean happy. And coffee._

In fact, now that he thought about it, Castiel was surprised that Dean hadn’t insisted on at least pulling into a drive-thru in order to obtain that worshipped liquid.

Castiel wasn’t that fond of it himself—he preferred sweeter drinks, thanks to his time as a human, like a flavoured latte or cappuccino—but he was well acquainted with Dean’s need for the strong, dark beverage each morning.

With that idea in his mind, Castiel watched and waited.

Something that he was certainly not unfamiliar with when it came to Dean Winchester.

When they stopped to fill the tank, stretch their legs, and switch seats in the early afternoon, Castiel enacted his plan.

Across the road from the gas station they had stopped at was a homey-looking diner, complete with red and white retro-style décor.

Castiel eyed it as the gas tank filled. Dean had moved out from under the gas station’s canopy and was stretching in the sunlight, his shirt riding up to teasingly display a strip of flat stomach.

_A very pleasant view,_ Castiel mused. And he wasn’t referring to the diner or countryside around them.

When Dean returned, Castiel opened his mouth to make his move, but Dean beat him to it, saying “I’m gonna get some coffee. You want anything?”

Castiel closed his mouth and shook his head.

But then Dean started heading in the wrong direction, toward the gas station’s convenience store, rather than the dinner across the street.

“Dean, wait,” Castiel called after him.

He paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Changed your mind?”

“No, but if you give me a couple minutes to finish this, we can go to the diner together.”

Dean’s eyes fell on the surely tempting establishment, promising all sorts of delights—pie amongst them.

But then he looked away. “We should keep moving,” he said. “The gas station is quicker.”

Castiel tried again. “We could order something to go. You haven’t eaten since yesterday, Dean. You need food.” Dean looked about to protest. “ _Real_ food,” Castiel added, not about to debate the culinary offerings of a gas station convenience store.

Dean hesitated, eyes flicking to the diner and away again. He licked his lips.

If he had been standing any closer, Castiel was sure he would have heard Dean’s stomach growl for sustenance.

“Alright,” Dean said, clearly caving to his stomach and taste buds. “But we’re getting whatever’s fastest to go.”

Castiel supressed his pleased grin, allowing only his usual smile to surface. Even still, he thought he might have seen Dean’s cheeks pinked just slightly before he was walking past Castiel toward the diner.

Castiel finished up at the pump and then followed.

The interior of the diner was just as retro as the exterior. Plush, red vinyl benches framed gleaming white, laminate tables. At the long counter, half the tall barstools with matching red cushions were occupied, mostly by men who looked to be truckers on long cross-country commutes.

There was a family at one of the booths and two women sharing a milkshake at another. Otherwise, the place was empty besides the staff. Likely because it was now past the lunch hour rush.

Dean was standing by the counter, perusing a single-page laminated menu, and Castiel approached him from behind.

Without a word, Dean tilted the menu so Castiel could have a view of it from beside him.

It was standard diner fare, and it was clear that, unsurprisingly, the quickest item on the menu would be the salads.

Dean obviously had come to the same conclusion as well, given his frown.

“We could get their wraps to go,” Castiel suggested, undeterred, “or, perhaps, the chicken fingers and fries.”

Dean bit his lower lip, which had Castiel biting his own in response.

“Or we could stay just a short while,” he pressed on. “If we did, we could get the burgers. And… maybe…” here he paused for full effect, “some pie?”

With cosmic timing, Dean’s stomach chose that exact moment to rumble loudly. The waitress behind the counter glanced over and Dean’s neck reddened.

Castiel held back a chuckle.

Just as it looked like Dean was about to give in, he closed his green eyes and breathed out deeply.

“No,” he stated firmly. “Sam—Sam needs us. We’ll get the wraps to go,” he hesitated, “and maybe they can box up a piece of pie.”

Castiel sighed, but at least Dean was going to eat something, so it wasn’t a total loss.

They ordered their food, including a cappuccino for Castiel and black coffee for Dean. Castiel also asked about the pie when it looked like Dean was about to let it go.

They had a strawberry-rhubarb pie, made fresh that morning. A slice was boxed up for later.

Back in the car, Castiel had to complete some dextrous acrobatics in order to eat the rather hefty wrap one-handed while driving, but he managed by getting Dean to unwrap it for him.

It probably wasn’t the safest way to drive, but, well, they were in a bit of a rush, so, sacrifices and all that.

And driving one-handed was still safer than what Dean had been doing in New York, so it wasn’t like the hunter could complain about Castiel’s driving if he had wanted to.


	3. Under Stress

As he drove, Castiel’s mind drifted. And, naturally, it drifted to its favourite subject: Dean Winchester.

Ten years.

Over ten long, often sad, occasionally deadly, never dull years.

That was how long he had known Sam and Dean Winchester. Since he had pulled Dean from Hell’s clutches.

It felt like so much longer than that, and simultaneously, like no time at all.

It was also nearly how long he had been subtly dropping hints that he thought of himself and Dean as closer than merely friends.

Perhaps too subtly, Castiel admitted ruefully.

He knew the brothers accepted him as family—they had called him so on numerous occasions. But even that descriptor couldn’t fully encompass what he felt for the older Winchester.

Castiel had felt love before: For his angelic siblings. For the humans he had grown to care for.

He had also felt the sexual urges that came with inhabiting a human vessel. For example, that one time with the reaper who had then promptly killed him, which he preferred not to think about.

Full-blown romantic desire, however—that yearning to be close, physically and emotionally, with another soul—had eluded Castiel, as it had most other angels, until he had gotten to know Dean.

It hadn’t been an immediate thing, Castiel reflected. Not “love at first sight” as the movies Dean was so fond of liked to describe.

It had been more gradual than that, though no less in its intensity. If anything, Castiel’s acceptance within himself of the swirling emotions that characterized humanity had felt more like waking up from a long sleep than the falling metaphor so frequently used.

With a secret smirk, Castiel could admit to one thing though. Like those films, he and Dean’s story did have an epic beginning.

Sure, Dean claimed not to remember his rescue from Hell, but Castiel would never forget his garrison’s descent into the fiery pit, battling demons and tortured souls, and the moment he finally grasped Dean’s arm in his hand.

Castiel’s eyes drifted from the road to Dean’s left arm where the scar from his undiluted angelic grip used to be.

Dean was staring fixedly at the fields passing by, away from Castiel, but as he observed him, Dean seemed to sense the attention and turned his head.

Castiel returned his own eyes to the road.

_Over ten years,_ he mused. It was a long time to wait for one man.

But Castiel would wait ten more. And longer, if necessary.

And even if Dean never got his hints and they never developed their relationship further, Castiel was content just to be there, by his side. Saving the world, one day, one person at a time.

As the afternoon dragged on, Dean started to become restless. It started with a tapping of his fingers on his leg.

Castiel had glanced over at him, and Dean had stopped, only to resume again a few minutes down the road.

Next came frequent shifts in his seat.

Castiel thought that maybe driving had previously given Dean something to think about. But now that Castiel was driving, he had nothing to distract him from the monotony of the cross-country trip against the same field after field after field, interspersed with the odd little town. Any major cities, they had detoured around, hoping to avoid the traffic jam they had experienced back in New York.

So, Castiel suggested a car game. _I Spy_ , or perhaps the licence plate game.

But Dean had responded with a definitive “no.”

Then the leg bouncing began, and Castiel had had enough.

“I can pull over if you need to take a walk. Stretch your legs,” Castiel suggested.

“Actually,” Dean began, turning his head from the window to face him, “go ahead and pull over. We can switch.”

Castiel glanced at the clock on the dash. “We’re not due to switch for another hour,” he caught Dean’s eyes, “and you know I could drive the entire way. You don’t have to drive.”

Dean snorted. “If you drove the entire way, it would take us an extra day. Sorry to say it, Cas, but you don’t exactly step on it.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “I apologize for keeping you safe by trying to prevent an accident in this vehicle moving at high-speeds.”

Obviously, Dean missed Castiel’s sarcasm because the hunter went on to add, “If only you or Jack could still just zap us places. That would be handy right about now.”

“Am I supposed to apologize for the Fall now, too? For Metatron?” Castiel stared at the road ahead of them, lips tight.

“No, of course not. No, I—”

“You don’t think I wish, every single day, that I had my full powers again? That I wasn’t as helpless as I am now?”

“You’re not helpless, Cas! I—I don’t even know what I would do without you. You’ve saved my life, Sam’s life, and so many others so many times.”

Castiel snuck a glance at Dean, whose eyes were wide and pleading. He turned his eyes back to the road, still annoyed.

He knew that Dean didn’t really mean what he had said in a negative way, but the comment had ruffled Castiel’s feathers, poking at a wound that had long since healed, but the scar still gave him occasional pains.

Dean, clearly sensing that Castiel was not soothed, continued, “I just meant that zapping would have been faster. I mean, nobody could argue that, but no one’s blaming you. Or Jack.” Castiel rolled his eyes, but internally relented the point. “You just drive a little slowly, that’s all. Which is why I was saying we could switch.”

And Castiel’s annoyance was back. Yes, he drove the speed limit. Yes, most people drove a good margin above that, especially on the country highways, and yes, Sam might be in danger and needing them to get to Los Angeles as quickly as possible, but Castiel was driving that speed for Dean.

Fragile human Dean sitting in this potentially dangerous contraption right beside him. The statistics didn’t lie, and when Castiel had first learned to drive, he had researched them all.

Ninety people.

Every day, ninety people died in car accidents in the U.S. alone. And another nearly 5,500 people were permanently injured. Every. Day.

The image of Dean injured and unable to hunt, possibly unable to even leave the Bunker, filled Castiel with dread. If Dean lost that essential part of himself, of his identity, Castiel had no idea what his friend would do.

And he never wanted to find out.

“So, if you could pick up the pace a little bit, that would be awesome.”

Castiel drew in a slow, controlled breath.

“Fine,” he said.

And he pulled the car over, parking on the gravel shoulder. He turned to fully face Dean. “You want to speed to Sam’s rescue, risking your own life and safety in the process, go right ahead. Don’t let me stop you. But when the police pull you over, or worse, well, I told you so.”

Dean’s mouth gaped open in the face of Castiel’s ire. But Castiel didn’t wait for a response. He twisted to the door, pulling the handle, stepping out, and storming around the Prius to the passenger side.

Then he stood at Dean’s door, crossed his arms and waited.

Cautiously, Dean emerged from the Prius.

“Look, Cas—”

Castiel shook his head, stepping around Dean. “Just drive.”

“Hey, wait, Cas,” Dean said, pleading, but Castiel was already in the Prius and shutting the door in Dean’s face.

He listened as Dean stomped around the Prius and threw himself into the driver’s seat.

To Castiel’s annoyance and dismay, Dean peeled from the shoulder and back onto the road in a spray of gravel and tore down the highway at full speed.

There was silence in the Prius for a long time after that.

A few hours later, they still hadn’t spoken a word.

They were passing through a small town and had to slow down for some lights, when Dean suddenly spoke. “Listen, Cas, Sam’s in trouble. That call… Something definitely wasn’t right and… And it’s got me worried. I can’t stop thinking about Sammy trapped, in pain, needing me. And Charlie could be in danger, too. It’s got me on edge here.”

Castiel, who had still been facing the window, finally turned on a sigh to look at Dean. “I know, but when will the sacrificing yourselves for each other end? Because it won’t end well. What you did in New York… I was scared for you, Dean. You scared me.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about the zapping comment.” He caught Castiel’s eyes while they were stopped at a red light. “You’re not any less because you can’t fly anymore. No one thinks that, especially not me.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said sincerely.

“But you know that you can’t protect me from everything, right? Sure, driving’s dangerous, and yes, it would probably be safer if I was a little more cautious about it, but so are a million other things. Sam and I told you about the time Gabriel trapped us in a time loop, right?”

Castiel nodded, scowling. “You mean the time loop where he killed you over and over again? I never did _thank_ him for that.”

“Uh, it’s okay, Cas. It was a long time ago. My _point_ was that there are thousands of ways for me to die or get injured. That’s just part of being mortal. Being human.”

Castiel sighed in resignation. He looked at Dean, trying to convey his feels through their gaze. “I know. Though it doesn’t stop me from wanting to try.”

Dean chuckled. “I know the feeling. I’d do the same for you, Cas.”

Castiel blinked. A car horn honked behind them, startling them. The light had turned green.

“I’d go to hell and back for you,” Dean stated firmly, staring at the road.

“That’s not an easy thing. Even for an angel.”

Dean chuckled. “It’s a saying, Cas.”

“Oh…”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Oh. Well, I hope you never have to.”

Another chuckle. “Me too, Cas. Me too.”

They had already had to stop during the day to fill the Prius’ miniature tank, and Castiel observed Dean’s once again growing impatience with it by the time the sun set.

Even though it may have cost them more of their limited pocket money in the long run, Castiel wished that the rental place had had a truck with a larger fuel capacity available. Then, at least, they wouldn’t have had to stop so frequently.

Although, if they’d had the Thunderbird or Impala, they would have had to stop even more frequently due to the older vehicles’ extreme lack of fuel efficiency.

Castiel had learned a lot about cars from being around Dean for so many years.

_Honestly,_ he thought to himself, _we should have taken my own truck when we left the Bunker._

Now, as the sun set, Dean pulled them off the highway, yet again, and into a small town.

As they passed one area of the town, however, Dean’s expression was suddenly illuminated by multi-coloured lights.

Apparently, they had arrived in this particular town during their local fair.

And Dean—ever fun-loving Dean—drove right on past with only a single waver of his otherwise fixed from the road.

He pulled into a gas station a few blocks down, succinctly instructed Castiel to move to the driver’s seat, and got out to fill the tank.

Castiel did as he was told and then pondered.

He understood Dean’s stress. He truly did.

But he also knew Dean would burn himself out going on like this—the diner situation being a prime example—and they still had over two thirds of their rescue mission to Los Angeles left.

After driving for twelve hours straight in the Prius, Castiel knew they needed a break. Sam was a capable hunter who could handle himself, and he was with Charlie from the Apocalypse Universe. Chances were, they would arrive to find everything was fine.

Also, Mary was calling in local help, so any trouble, if there was any, would be long dealt with by the time they arrived.

So, in Castiel’s opinion, they could afford a quick break.

And a perfect opportunity to take it had just appeared, glowing prismatically on Dean’s skin.

Castiel was taking Dean Winchester to the fair.

Whether he liked it or not.

Deep down, Castiel hoped he liked it.

As Dean folded himself into the passenger side of the rental Prius, Castiel stared him down determinedly.

Dean raised an eyebrow, then gestured at the ignition. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Castiel didn’t move to start the car.

“We should take a break,” Castiel responded, keeping his tone low and serious. From experience, he knew it was going to take some work to get his idea through to Dean.

Sure enough, Dean gapped at him. “Sam—”

“Sam, and possibly Charlie, won’t be any better off if we get to Los Angeles but are too exhausted and stiff to rescue him from whatever trouble he’s in,” Castiel rebutted.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and Castiel could practically see his mind churning, fighting with his instincts. Those big brother instincts were probably screaming at him to get to Sam as fast as he physically could, despite whatever his body was also telling him.

“I can’t, Cas,” Dean admitted. “I need—Any delay—Even five minutes could mean life or death.”

Castiel took a breath, still determined.

He shifted in his seat, turning his body to face Dean more fully.

“ _I_ need a break, Dean,” Castiel stated firmly.

Dean visibly swallowed. “Okay.”


	4. At the Fair

The fair was a whirlwind of flashing lights in a multitude of colours, and the compounded scents of sweet cotton candy, buttery popcorn and earthy hay, crossed with the ever-present pungency of humanity found in all places where humans gather in large numbers.

Normally at ease in such places, this time around, Dean hated it all.

The energy of the venue only heightened his own anxiety to get to Sam and Charlie as quickly as humanly possible.

Quicker even, if he could swing that.

Did Rowena know a teleportation spell?

Was there a demon he could leverage or threaten into giving him a lift?

But Rowena wasn’t answering her phone, and he and Castiel didn’t have the proper ingredients in the Prius for a demon summoning. Any detour to get the necessary supplies was just more time Sam might not have.

For the thousandth time, Dean wished he had _Baby_.

He was sorely tempted to grab _Baby_ when they inevitably passed by Lebanon and the bunker, but he just couldn’t risk the time it would take to finish putting her engine back together, and he didn’t trust anyone else to do it properly.

Except perhaps Mary or Sam. But Mary was even further away than they were, and Sam was…

So, he was stuck with Castiel’s Prius. The _Sunshine Banana_.

Dean stole a glance at his angel, only to find his gaze suddenly fixed on Castiel as he stared around in wonder.

Abruptly, Dean was reminded that Castiel had likely never been to a fair. At least, Dean knew he had never been to one with himself, and he doubted Castiel had gotten the inclination to drop down from Heaven to ride the bumper cars before they had met.

A shot of guilt stabbed at Dean.

Sure, over the years, he had shown Castiel humanity through music, food, movies, television, even books, but those had always been moments stolen between jobs or before the next crisis.

And it was also true that they had ventured to some fun places in the name of hunting, but they had never actually taken a trip specifically for the hell of it. He and Sam had done that, once upon a time, but over the last few years… Not so much.

Granted, this wasn’t a trip for their entertainment either, but currently, as dictated by Castiel, their only purpose at the fair was to get out of the Prius for a short while.

And suddenly, Dean didn’t know how to act.

There he was. At a fair with Castiel, and only Castiel, with nothing better to do than to kill the half hour they had agreed to take.

Dean wiped his treacherously sweaty palms on his jeans before addressing Castiel.

“So,” he said. “Where do you want to start? I recommend saving the corn dogs and cotton candy until after a few rides. Especially if you wanna go on the spinning ones.”

With a visible effort, Castiel pulled his attention from the activity around them to focus on Dean. His eyes caught and reflected the fair’s lights, though not nearly as bright as Castiel’s eyes when he used his angel mojo.

“Which one is your favourite?” Castiel inquired.

Dean shrugged, shifting his eyes to actually look at the rides instead of staring at Castiel. “I don’t really know. Each fair or carnival is a little bit different. Though there are the classics, of course. Bumper cars. Carousel. Ferris wheel.”

“Ferris wheel?”

Dean nodded and pointed at where he could easily see the metal wheel with its revolving cars towering over the fair grounds.

“Let’s start with that one,” Castiel decided.

Himself and Castiel alone in the slow-moving, scenic, destination of fair-going couples everywhere?

Dean swallowed, shoving down the secret part of him that was screaming, “Yes, please!”

“Um,” he began reluctantly, “we should pick a faster ride. The Ferris wheel is great and all, but the point here is to get our adrenaline up, right? And the line for it is probably ridiculous anyway. We’d only have time for that one ride and nothing else.”

To Dean’s partial relief—and quickly hidden disappointment—Castiel seemed to accept his reasoning.

“What about that one?” his angel suggested.

Dean’s eyes followed Castiel’s raised hand to one of the flashiest rides.

It was a spinning ride that also tilted riders up and down on an incline. It was fast, with plenty of modern special effects, including smoke machines and strobe lights.

The line was long, but it was clearly moving fast. Likely thanks to the brevity of the ride itself and the larger passenger capacity.

“Sure,” Dean allowed.

As they waited in line, Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He did this so repetitively that Castiel actually sent a questioning glance his way, and Dean tried to make himself stop.

He began playing with plastic bracelet they had purchased in order to get on all the rides, twisting it around and around his wrist until the skin started to chafe.

His twitchiness, he guessed, was likely a combination of being stuck in a car all day and nervousness.

The former, Dean couldn’t do anything about. It would wear off eventually as they moved around the fairgrounds and his muscles warmed up with the light exercise.

The later, however, stemmed from being around Castiel, and there was also nothing Dean could do—nor wanted to do—about that.

Once upon a time, he had used to be completely at ease around his angel. In fact, it was the one thing he had loved the most about hanging out with Castiel. He had always known that although Castiel didn’t always agree with his ideas or opinions—a good thing, because it would be weird if he did—Dean had always felt comfortable sharing them.

Castiel didn’t judge the way humans did. He took everything at face value and called it as he saw it, often in that no-nonsense, sass of his, which Dean appreciated. Most of the time, anyway.

Sure, it meant they argued at times over more serious stuff, and they had had their temporary falling outs, but generally speaking, ever since Castiel had rebelled against Heaven, they had been close friends. Years ago, Dean had jokingly called himself, Sam and Castiel “Team Free Will,” but honestly, that was how he had seen the three of them. A team.

He couldn’t recall exactly when that had changed into something more complicated.

Nowadays, it seemed like his deeper feelings for Castiel had always been there, but he just hadn’t seen them. Hadn’t even considered that perhaps always calling Castiel first, before anyone else, to get his thoughts on something; or reaching out to him, just to know he was safe; or especially, relaxing and feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders every time Castiel entered a room, might have all indicated he felt something more than just friendship for his angel.

There had been moments, brief spotlights in his memory, when he and Castiel had stood a little too close. Hugged a little bit too long or too tightly. Shared a significant glance. Had a “chick flick” moment. In those sparse seconds, Dean had began thinking, “Maybe…” but then they had always passed.

Lost in whatever crisis they were going through. Or interrupted by someone or something else.

And later, when Dean would finally have some time to himself to actually sit down and think about those moments, he always found himself doubting and brushing them off.

_Castiel just doesn_ _’t get personal space._

_We just went through literal hell, of course we_ _’re gonna hug a bit longer than normal people._

_Nothing about us or our friendship is normal, so of course it_ _’s going to be a little quirky._

But then, Lucifer had happened.

And Castiel had died.

Like, actually died and not instantly brought back by Chuck or whatever.

Dean didn’t like to think about the dark period that had followed. He shuddered when he even considered how he had treated Jack before Castiel had finally been returned.

But that had been the instant. The catalyst Dean had needed to bring his feelings into the light and actually accept that the love he felt for his angel was more than the love between friends.

That he wanted more from Castiel than just hanging out and being buddies.

He wanted passion. Commitment. Dates. PDA’s. Everything they had done before, but so much more. The whole shebang.

But it had been too late. Castiel had been gone, and the world had gone dark for Dean.

The Impala still probably hadn’t forgiven him for the insane driving he had put her through the night he had received Castiel’s call. The night Castiel had returned to him.

For the first few minutes after the call, Dean had been full of joy and hope. Even though it was night, the world had suddenly become as bright as daylight once again.

Yet, as he had driven, the same old doubts he had battled for years in every relationship had resurfaced. This time with Castiel in the starring role.

Every fear and insecurity Dean had felt about his relationship with Lisa had refocused on Castiel and even intensified, to Dean’s growing horror. And by the time he had arrived where Castiel was waiting, Dean could only embrace Castiel, not saying a word about what it truly meant to him.

And he still hadn’t.

He glanced down at Castiel’s hand, resting casually at his angel’s side.

“We should go,” Dean said abruptly.

Castiel’s gaze snapped his way. “Excuse me?”

Dean swallowed. “We should leave. Sam—”

Castiel frowned and said, “Call Mary.”

“What?”

“Call Mary. She might have an update from her contacts.”

“Oh,” Dean said, pulling out his phone. “Right.”

He pressed Mary’s speed-dial button and she answered after the second ring.

“Is everything alright, Dean?” she immediately asked.

“Everything’s fine,” Dean assured her. “I just wanted to check in.” Then he added, “About Sam and Charlie.”

_Duh,_ he scolded himself. _As if she doesn_ _’t know that._

“An old contact of mine is in the area, living in Anaheim. He’s searching, but he hasn’t found anything yet.”

Dean rubbed his face with his hand. They moved forward a little in the line. “What was their last known location? I’ll need a place to start if nothing turns up by the time we get there.”

The line was silent for a moment. “Well, um, I spoke with Jack about an hour ago and he said that they last checked in from the motel they were staying at.”

“At least it’s a place to start,” Dean said with a sigh. “Can you text me the name and address of the hotel?”

“Of course, Dean. I’m sending it now.”

Dean considered for a moment. “I think I’ll also give Jack a call to see if he has any other info he can give me. Even something small that he might not think is significant could be the key to finding Sam.”

“Uh, Jack—” Mary’s voice had suddenly taken on an odd tone. “Um, give Jack a half hour or so. He’s probably still testing a spell to find Sam and Charlie right about now, and he’s still learning. Best not to test his multitasking just yet.”

Frowning, Dean glanced over at Castiel to see if he had heard anything, but Castiel was focused on the line ahead of them. They were nearing the front.

“Sure, Mom,” Dean responded, still confused about Mary’s weird comment. “I should let you go. Say hi to Bobby for me.”

“I will.” Mary’s tone was back to normal. “Oh, and Dean? What’s all the noise around you? I keep hearing… bells? And whistles? And lots of voices.”

“Oh, uh…” Dean stammered. “I—We—” He cleared his throat just as he noticed Castiel watching him curiously. “Cas and I are at a fair,” he finally blurted out.

“Oh, Dean. I’m so—”

“I know. I’m sorry. We just needed a quick break before getting back on the road, I swear. Then we’ll be on our way to Sam again.”

Silence. Then: “It’s good that you’re taking a break. You boys always push yourselves too hard. Holding yourselves to impossible standards. Get to Sam, but take care of yourselves, too.”

Dean breathed out in relief. “Thanks, Mom. Bye.”

“Bye, Dean.”

He hung up and then proceeded to stare at his phone for a moment.

_What a weird call,_ he thought.

“We’re next,” Castiel said, interrupting his thoughts.

Nodding, Dean tucked his phone away, letting any half-baked suspicions rest until later. Right now, he had something else to focus on.

Namely, an Angel of the Lord about to ride the Cyclone of Insanity for the first time.

Sure enough, when he looked up from putting away his phone, Castiel was holding up his wrist for the young guy supervising the entrance to see his bracelet.

Dean followed suit, and then they were walking up to the ride itself, getting strapped in, and holding on for dear life.

At least, Dean was. Through his watering eyes, Dean could see Castiel smiling the entire time.

A few minutes later, Dean stumbled from the ride.

The world spun and Dean prayed that his stomach held.

He groped for Castiel’s trench coat. Missed. Tried again and found cloth.

Castiel gripped his arm, steadying him. Castiel, to Dean’s immense jealousy, remained unaffected by the spinning ride.

“Maybe we should have gone on the Ferris wheel after all,” Castiel was saying. “Unless that would have made you ill as well?”

“What? Hell, no.” Dean snorted. “First, the Ferris wheel doesn’t make anyone sick, unless you’re afraid of heights. And two, that ride was awesome!”

Castiel rolled his eyes. Or at least, Dean thought he did. It may have been his vision doing the rolling.

“There are some things about humans that I will never understand.”

With Castiel grounding him, Dean’s vision was starting to clear and his stomach was ceasing its roiling protests. “But that is an awesome angel perk,” Dean countered. “You get to enjoy the fastest, craziest rides with none of the physical side effects.”

Castiel shrugged and Dean’s stomach did one last flip that may or may not have been from the ride.

“Did—did you enjoy it, at least?” Dean asked.

Castiel, who had been watching all the passersby, turned fully to Dean and caught his eyes with his own. “I enjoyed watching you enjoy it.”

Dean’s face burned. It wasn’t the first time Castiel had made such a comment, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. But, damn, did it sound like something straight out of the cheesiest chick flick.

And if it had been anyone else saying it, Dean would have automatically assumed they were flirting.

But this was Castiel, and his angel didn’t flirt.

At least, he hadn’t thought he did…

But looking at Castiel right then, Dean suddenly wasn’t so sure. The look Castiel was giving him: soft eyes, relaxed features that spoke of a certain fondness, amused quirk of the lips. It made him want to lean in closer and see what would happen.

Instead, he stepped back, letting go of Castiel’s jacket, and averted his eyes to his watch. “We should figure out what we want to do next. Less than twenty minutes left.” Then he pretended to search around for something, looking anywhere but at Castiel.

Castiel didn’t reply, and Dean sneaked a peek at him.

His angel had been watching him, but looked away as soon as their eyes met.

Dean looked away as well, pretending he hadn’t seen the disappointed look on Castiel’s face.

Almost immediately, however, his eyes caught on a food stall not too far from them. The sweetness wafting from it made Dean’s mouth water.

“There,” Dean said, pointing. Forcing on a smile, he turned back to Castiel. “Have you ever had cotton candy before?”

Castiel shook his head. “I know of it, but no. I have never had the occasion.”

Without thinking too hard about it, Dean caught Castiel’s hand and tugged him toward the stall. Castiel followed along docilly. That small, amused smile had made a reappearance.

Sure, Dean let go of his hand once they had arrived at the stall in the pretence of pulling out his wallet, but even that brief contact had his heart beating ten times harder.

He fumbled the bills once, but managed to extract enough for a single swirl of cotton candy, which was absolutely massive.

He handed the bright blue confection to Castiel, who examined it and then looked at Dean, clearly confused.

“Are you not getting one for yourself?”

Dean chuckled. “I can’t eat a whole one of those by myself, or I really will be sick. So, I thought—” Dean bit his lip, then carried on. “I thought we could share.” A pause. “If you’re willing, of course.” Another pause. “But if you want the whole thing, that’s cool too. You probably could eat the whole thing without getting sick. Angel mojo and all. I just—”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted with a smirk. “I’m happy to share.” Then he proceeded to pull off a wad of the blue fluff and hold it out to Dean.

He accepted Castiel’s offering with a “Thanks,” but as he was placing the spun sugar on his tongue, feeling it melt away, he noticed the stares.

Not everybody, but still a good few of the people around them were staring at him and Castiel. And Dean was suddenly quite conscious of the image the two of them were projecting.

Two guys, at a fair, sharing a single cotton candy. Looks like a date. Smells like a date. Must be a date.

Some of the fairgoers had smiles as they observed, others appeared simply curious. But there was one or two whose expressions edged toward disgust, even outrage.

Meanwhile, Castiel had taken a bite for himself and moaned in appreciation.

“It melts,” he sighed, licking his lips to get all traces of the blue sweetness.

Dean couldn’t help his chuckle. “Yes, that’s part of the beauty of it. But, um…” Dean scouted around. “Let’s head back to the car. Okay?”

Castiel’s happy smile wilted. Dean’s heart pinched.

Yet, he still began moving in the direction of the parking lot.

At least until he heard Castiel say, “Wait. Look, Dean.”

He turned and his eyes followed to where Castiel gestured.

It was the line for the Ferris wheel. Or rather, the lack of one, because there was only one couple currently waiting to get on the giant wheel.

Castiel’s eyes meant Dean’s, and Dean instantly knew he was done for.

He sighed in resignation. “All right. Last thing, then we have to go.”

“Agreed,” Castiel said with an infectious grin.

And Dean couldn’t help grinning himself as they raced over to beat another couple heading to the Ferris wheel line, like a couple of school children. Or a pair of giddy, young lovers.

The ride had been slow, just as Dean had known it would be. But it had also been peaceful, washing Dean with a sense of calmness that he hadn’t expected.

He also hadn’t predicted the silence that had permeated their ride. It hadn’t been an awkward silence, but rather one born out of quiet contemplation.

They had simply shared their cotton candy and watched the horizon rise and fall, admiring the lights of civilization below. The darkness of the night had hidden the natural landscape around the town, but that had been alright with them.

At one point, Dean had shifted on the hard seat and his thigh had brushed Castiel’s. He had left it there.

A minute later, Castiel’s torso had seemingly drifted innocuously towards Dean, until their shoulders had been touching as well.

They had remained like that for the rest of the ride.

Now, they were returning to the Prius, cotton candy long gone and still enveloped in the comfortable silence from the Ferris wheel.

As they walked, out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed Castiel doing something with his hands.

“What is it?” he asked.

Castiel huffed. “My hands. They’re sticky from the cotton candy.”

Dean grinned and held up his own hands, though he doubted Castiel could see the blue residue on them in the dark where they stood, halfway between the parking lot and the fairgrounds. “Mine too.”

Castiel squinted, then to Dean’s surprise, he reached out and grasped Dean’s fingers in his own. When Castiel let go a moment later, Dean felt the sticky resistance as their skin parted.

“I can’t tell if the stickiness is from my fingers or both of ours.”

Chuckling, Dean replied, “I promise, my fingers are sticky too. But even if they weren’t before, they definitely are now.”

In the dim light, he saw Castiel’s lips turn up in a sneaky smile.

Right before Castiel took Dean’s hand once more, this time covering Dean’s whole hand with his own, ensuring maximum stickiness transfer.

“Oi,” Dean protested, half-heartedly trying to shake his hand out of Castiel’s grip. “Let go,” Dean tried to command, but his laughter negated any effect it may have had.

Castiel simply grinned more and resumed walking to the car, his hand still wrapped around Dean’s.

And Dean let him, following and then quickening his stride to walk alongside him.

And just like that, Dean found himself strolling along while holding hands with Castiel.

It wasn’t until the _Sunshine Banana_ came into view that Dean was abruptly reminded of where they were and why they were there.

Sam.

Danger.

Rescue.

Feeling the weight of the world falling back onto his shoulders, for a split-second Dean wished he and Castiel could have stayed in the mini-universe of the fair. At least for a little while longer.

But the world didn’t work that way. A hard fact Dean had learned from a young age.

Reluctantly, he gave his hand a slight tug as they approached the Prius, and Castiel let him go.

They poured some water from a few bottles in the trunk over their hands to rinse them. Then they got in the car and left the fair behind.

_Back to reality,_ Dean thought glumly.

Castiel drove and Dean slept fitfully.


	5. Accidental Delay

Overall, Castiel felt that the detour to the fair had been a success.

Not only had he been able to distract Dean from his worry about Sam, but there had even been moments when he had thought—hoped—that Dean might finally be getting his hints.

He had even held Dean’s hand! Brief though it had been.

In fact, even after he had pulled the Prius out of the fair’s parking lot, and Dean had settled down in the passenger seat to sleep, he had still had a grin on his face for hours.

He was so happy with his progress that Dean himself commented on his mood when they stopped to re-fuel the car and themselves (read: Dean) around dawn, at a Texas truck stop just east of Amarillo.

Dean, of course, was as grumpy as he usually was that early in the morning. Not because he had slept poorly—only Castiel’s father knew how many times Dean Winchester had slept in the Impala—but because it was simply Dean being Dean.

And Castiel wouldn’t change him for the world.

So, he was still grinning as he handed Dean his coffee cup. Strong. Black.

Dean breathed in the fragrant steam and squinted up at Castiel over the rim. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Castiel gave a nonchalant half-shrug. “Nothing.” A response sure to have Dean questioning further.

And Dean did frown at him, but apparently, he wasn’t quite thinking clearly yet and the coffee was taking precedence in his brain. He refocused on the hot beverage and the subject was dropped with a grumbled, “Morning people.”

Castiel turned away with a sigh Dean wouldn’t be able to hear, before climbing back into the car.

Dean slunk over to the driver’s side, placed his coffee cup in the holder, and then proceeded to search for the keys.

Castiel watched, amused, as Dean located the keys stashed in the center console between them and then proceeded to raise them to the dash.

Only to stare blankly, blinking, at the push start button.

“Do you want me to keep driving?” Castiel asked, struggling and failing to keep the humour out of his voice.

“Just, uh, give me a minute,” Dean said sullenly, tossing the keys back into the console where they had been stored so far.

Instead of starting the Prius, however, he snatched up his coffee once more and rapidly gulped down half the contents.

“Okay, I’m good now,” he said, giving his head a quick shake.

Castiel grinned some more. “If you say so.”

Dean drove excellently, as usual. Castiel hadn’t truly been worried, or he would have insisted on taking over for another hour or two.

And in fact, after about twenty minutes, Dean had already switched on the radio and was bopping his head along with the music. He wasn’t singing along yet, but it was progress. It seemed that Castiel wasn’t the only one with a mood much improved from the day before.

Castiel just hoped it lasted for the rest of their journey.

The day wore on much the same as it had the previous one. They had another quick pit stop in New Mexico just before the border to Arizona in the early afternoon, then they were on their way again.

The day had grown to be hot.

Extremely hot.

Even Dean, who was used to driving around the country with just the windows rolled down, had sealed up the Prius and had the air conditioning blasting. The host of the radio station he was tuned to spoke of a continuing heat wave that had been scorching the south-west the last few days, including where they were as they entered Arizona.

He also spoke of an impending thunderstorm that was supposed to finally break the heat wave and provide rain to the parched states. For the time being, however, there wasn’t a cloud in sight, so Castiel didn’t put much thought to it.

The weather, after all, was unpredictable and could change in an instant.

Just like Dean’s mood, it seemed.

As the hours had ticked by that day, he had grown increasingly morose. Less and less head bobbing to the music until Dean was barely moving at all besides the movements required to drive. Shorter and shorter responses to anything Castiel said.

And as soon as the radio host had given the weather highlights and was proceeding to the local news, off the radio had gone, and silence had fallen within the Prius.

Castiel suspected that Dean was thinking about Sam again and worrying about him.

So, Castiel decided that Dean needed another distraction. He doubted that Dean would agree to stop again, not when they were so close to Los Angeles and hoping arrive in the city that night, but he believed he could at least take Dean’s mind off of Sam himself, right there in the car.

“Jack seems to be adjusting well, without his powers,” Castiel began.

“Hmhm.”

“I wish he had more friends his own age, though.”

Dean snorted. “He’s two, Cas. Though I’m sure he’d find toddlers fascinating, I doubt that would help him much in terms of socializing skills.”

_Got him talking,_ Castiel thought. Out loud he said, “I meant young adults. The age his body appears. He should have more young adults to… hang out with. He still has so much to learn about humanity and life in general.”

Dean’s lip quirked up. “Kind of like you, Cas, back when you first came down from Heaven.”

Castiel smiled in return. “That was hardly the first time I had come down from Heaven, but yes. It was the first time I was fully immersed in humanity. All thanks to you.”

“Hey, now,” Dean protested. “Don’t blame me for you choosing humanity over Heaven.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, despite Dean remaining focused on the road and not seeing the motion. “I wasn’t blaming you; I’m proud of my decision. I honestly meant that it was thanks to you that I was able to navigate humanity at all. Without you, I… I would have been at a loss.”

From the side, Castiel watched as Dean’s cheeks reddened. “You were at a loss when it came to human customs,” he mumbled. “Sam and I had to teach you everything.”

“Exactly. You taught me. It would be nice if Jack could find a teacher who could show him how to be a normal young adult on earth. Just like you did for me.”

The red flush crept down Dean’s neck. “What, are you saying we’re not normal? Not young enough? What are you implying, Cas?” Dean teased, while simultaneously sidestepping Castiel’s compliment.

But Castiel was persistent, and his tactics were working.

He said, “You’ll always be young to me. Even when you’re old and white-haired.” Dean wrinkled his nose at that. “And of course, none of us are normal. We have never been normal. Neither you or Sam as humans, or myself as an angel. But that’s what makes you who you are, Dean. If you lived a normal life… you just wouldn’t be you.”

Dean laughed. “Oh, trust me. I know exactly what that would have looked like. I’ve seen it. I had the chance to live it, but chose not to.” Then he sobered. “But thanks, Cas.”

But Castiel wasn’t done. “I’m glad you chose not to. I wouldn’t want you changed for anything. I love you just the way you are.”

Dean’s head snapped to Castiel, green eyes latching onto Castiel’s gaze with a raw, exposed desperation that Castiel had never seen before. “What do you mean?” Dean rasped.

Castiel took a breath and let it out, opening his mouth to speak.

Right at that moment, out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted something that had his heart skipping a beat and his limbs freezing.

“Watch out!”

With this breath catching in his throat, Dean forced his eyes back to the road.

Just in time to see the absolutely enormous pot hole directly in front of them, coming on fast.

“Shit!” Dean’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, but he didn’t swerve the car violently or slam on the brakes to avoid the dark abyss yawning before their vehicle. Based on the velocity of the Prius, Castiel assumed such an action would have only had them careening off the side of the road.

Instead, Dean slowed and corrected their direction as much as he could in the one second he had before contact.

It wasn’t enough.

Castiel felt the Prius lurch as the front driver’s side tire dipped into the crevasse. From how much the car dropped and the crash of metal hitting pavement, he suspected the whole tire had been swallowed and they had bottomed out.

His hand gripped Dean’s shoulder so tightly that he was probably causing bruises to form, though he wasn’t even sure what he hoped to accomplish with the action. It wasn’t like he could fly them to safety.

For the first time, he was grateful Dean wasn’t driving the Impala. Or even the Thunderbird. The Prius had a much higher safety rating, as he had learned from his brief research.

The Prius’ momentum carried them forward, the tire popping back out of the pot hole, and it chugged ahead, wobbling with the sound of slapping rubber.

Dean maneuvered over to the side of the road, but the Prius in ‘park’ and shut off the engine.

Then he just sat there. Just sat and breathed.

Castiel loosened his grip but he didn’t pull his hand away. “Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?” he asked with urgency.

Before Dean could even respond, Castiel’s other hand was on his forehead, glowing with angelic light as he checked him for injuries.

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted, swatting his hand away. “What about you?”

Castiel gave himself a once-over. “I am not injured. But even if I was, I would heal. I’m more concerned about you. You didn’t get whiplash? Bruises from the seat belt?”

Dean paused as he was reaching for the door handle. “What do you know about car-related injuries?”

Castiel waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve mentioned rebuilding the Impala a number of times and Sam mentioned that it was because you had been in car accidents. I figured it would be prudent to learn about the types of injuries most frequently caused during a car crash.”

“Wow, uh,” Dean said. “That’s actually really handy.”

Castiel smiled. “I thought so, anyway.”

Dean quickly averted his gaze. Was he blushing? Possibly his blood pressure was high from the residual adrenaline of the near-crash.

Opening the car door, Dean climbed out, likely to inspect the scope of the damage.

Castiel got out and moved around the Prius to see the damage for himself.

When he saw Dean staring with a defeated expression at the deflated tire, Castiel ached for him, and for Sam, and possibly Charlie, who was depending on them.

“It’s not good, is it?” he guessed.

“No. No, it’s not,” Dean admitted. “A flat tire, I can change easy enough, and we would be back on the road in less than ten minutes. But it’s also broken the tie rod and severely bent the suspension out of alignment. That’s out of my capabilities to fix on the side of the road with just what we have on us at my disposal.”

Basically, they would have to call a tow truck.

It was only luck that they had service out there in the middle of nowhere. There was also a small town within a twenty-minute drive, though they did have to wait an hour and a half before the tow truck, which had been out on another call, could make it to them.

So, in that regards at least, luck was definitely on their side, because they might have had to walk to that town in the blistering heat in the middle of the afternoon. As it was, Dean still finished all of the water they had on them by the time the tow truck came.

Castiel had proposed waiting in the car with its AC, but Dean had vetoed that option, explaining that there could be more damage to the undercarriage that they couldn’t see, and keeping the car running could damage it even more.

Considering that this was their only vehicle, that they were miles away from anywhere, and the urgency of their mission, Castiel agreed that erring on the side of caution was probably wise.

So, they had sat on the banked shoulder of the highway where a single, scrawny tree offered minimal shade.

Castiel wasn’t too bothered by the heat, of course, though it did make his vessel sweat somewhat, but he could tell that Dean was suffering.

But Dean had also leaned back against the tree and had his eyes shut, belaying any conversation.

Once the tow truck had brought them to the auto repair shop, Dean spoke with the mechanic, a young, handsome, and leanly muscled man who seemed to enjoy running his eyes up and down Dean while they were talking.

Castiel listened in, even though he didn’t understand some of the terminology, if only to ensure the young guy glanced hesitantly before ceasing his perusal of his hunter.

Apparently, after the initial inspection, only the tire and rim, as well as the tie rod, needed replacing, plus the re-alignment. But everything else had survived the pot hole, which was great news.

The bad news, as the mechanic informed them, was that they didn’t have any matching rims in stock, so to get back on the road quickly, they would have to try repairing the Prius’ damaged rim.

In addition, he was actually just an apprentice and their actual mechanic was in Phoenix for a wedding and wouldn’t be back until the following day.

“So, you’ll have to wait until he’s back,” the apprentice was saying.

Dean ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re an apprentice,” Castiel spoke up. “You really don’t know how to fix such a simple thing yourself?”

The apprentice’s face took on a scowl as he turned to Castiel. “It’s not as easy as it looks. Tire rims have to be precise or the tire won’t seal, and you have to be sure the fix will be stable or the metal will just bend again from the weight of the car.”

Castiel frowned at the man-child.

Dean sighed. “He’s right, Cas.” He then fixed those green eyes on the apprentice. “Hey, look. We’re in a bit of an urgent situation. My friend and I really need to get to my brother in Los Angeles as quickly as possible. Is there anything you can do? No one you can call?”

The kid shook his head. “Sorry, man.”

Dean tried again. “What if I do it? I’d just need to borrow your equipment for a short while. I’ll still pay you for the full repair.”

The kid’s eyes widened. “You’re a mechanic?”

“Er… Sort of. I’ve rebuilt my _Baby_ a few times, but—”

“ _Sweet_ , man. What do you drive?”

“Uh,” Dean said, hesitating. “A ’67 Impala.”

“ _Dude,_ ” the kid cooed.

Castiel crossed his arms across his chest. “So, will you let us borrow the equipment or not?”

Dean shot Castiel a warning look. Castiel glared back, and Dean blinked in surprise.

The kid scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not allowed to let anyone around the work areas. Some of the stuff there can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing, and you guys aren’t insured to work here.”

Castiel huffed under his breath, trust the kid not to know how to fix a bent rim yet, but he knows all about the shop’s insurance policies.

Dean glanced at Castiel. “What if it’s just me? I told you about my car, so you know that I know what I’m doing, and it’s only one person instead of two.”

Castiel disliked that option very much, but he kept his mouth shut. Dean wouldn’t appreciate it if he screwed up their chance to get back on the road again that day. And if Sam or Charlie was hurt in that time… Dean would never forgive him. And, of course, Castiel didn’t want anything to happen to Sam or Charlie either. The tall hunter was like a brother to him as well.

So, Castiel sucked it up and held his tongue like a good angel.

The kid hemmed and hawed, but refused to budge in the end, no matter what Dean offered.

Dean kicked a stack of spare tires on their way out of the shop’s reception area. Outside, the sweltering heat hit them hard. In the sky, dark storm clouds had begun rolling in from the west. It seemed that thunderstorm the weather man had been calling for had finally arrived.

Castiel pulled out his phone.

Dean looked over at him questioningly. “What are you doing?”

“Calling your mother,” Castiel answered while dialing. “She should be updated about our delay.”

Dean perked back up slightly. “Maybe she has an update from her contact about Sam and Charlie, too.”

Castiel gave a half smile. “Perhaps.”

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mary. You’re on speakerphone with Dean as well,” he said, pressing the button.

“Hi, Castiel. Hi, Dean. How are you two? How’s the drive been?”

“We’re fine, thank you. How are you?”

“Good, good. The weather’s been okay?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. Castiel shrugged.

“It’s hot. Has there been any update about Sam and Charlie?”

“No,” Mary sighed over the line. “Nothing. My LA contact searched the motel room, but couldn’t find any clue about where they might be.”

“And the pier? Sam had said something about a pier?”

“Yes, he searched all the piers in the area as well. He promised that he was very thorough. There’s so many along the California coast though…”

Dean cursed. “Can your guy send pictures of Sam and Charlie’s motel rooms? There might be something that only I would spot, knowing Sam.”

“Sorry, Dean. He’s already gone.”

“What?”

“He heard of a werewolf pack moving northward from the area, and he’s trying to catch up to them, hoping that they might be hunting them.”

Dean had tensed, his fists clenched and his shoulders rigid. Castiel placed a hand on his upper arm. Dean took a shuddering breath at the touch and a little of the tension drained away.

Mary continued speaking, “Hopefully he’s right and we’ll hear from him soon.” Then she cleared her throat. “In the meantime, anything to… _report_ from your end?”

Castiel frowned. Dean looked confused as he said, “We’ve been on the road all this time. How would we have anything to report?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Mary was clearly edging around something. “Maybe you encountered something on your way?”

Dean’s mouth opened. Closed. “We went to a fair,” he blurted out.

Castiel supressed a grin.

“A fair? What did you guys do there? Did you go on the rides? Play some carnival games?”

Dean looked just about ready to run away from the conversation. “Uh, we… Well, we went on a couple rides. Got some cotton candy. That’s pretty much it. We didn’t stay long, just a quick break.”

“Of course, of course.”

Castiel spontaneously added, “I enjoyed the Ferris wheel,” and had the pleasure of watching Dean flush deeply once more.

“Ah, the Ferris wheel! So romantic.”

“Mom!”

Castiel could swear he heard Mary laughing behind a smothered microphone.

“We did actually call for another reason as well,” Dean powered on, forcing a very obvious subject change.

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah, we—I hit a pot hole and sort of dented a rim. We’re in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere with only one repair shop, and their mechanic isn’t even here. So, we’re stuck here until tomorrow.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible,” Mary said, though her voice wasn’t nearly as concerned as Castiel would have expected.

His eyes narrowed. Mary was acting very oddly. This entire phone call was strange, to say the least.

Mary had continued speaking. “At least you boys are alright. Just stay safe, okay? No matter what happens to Sam, I can’t lose you boys, too, just because you were reckless trying to save him.”

“We’ll be safe, I promise,” Dean said.

“Good, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Just as Castiel hung up the phone, he felt the first rain drops hit his face.

“We should find that motel the apprentice mentioned to spend the night and wait out the storm,” he suggested.

Dean inspected the sky and nodded. “Probably a good idea.”

They walked and the ran down Main Street as the light rain turned rapidly into a deluge that soaked them completely. Thankfully, Dean’s duffle bag protected his things from the water.

They ducked into a sandwich shop to grab an early dinner, and then ventured back into the rain.

Bursting into the motel’s office, they walked into a blast of freezing cold air that had Dean visibly shivering within seconds.

They went straight for the front desk, and the kind-looking, old lady working there smiled at them, despite the puddles they were leaving on her laminate.

“Quite the downpour out there, isn’t it?” she said with a heavy southern accent. “About time, too.”

“Would have been nice if it could have held off a little longer,” Dean responded, teeth chattering.

The old lady just chuckled heartily. “You boys will be wanting a room, I presume?”

“Yes, please,” Castiel said.

Dean added, “Two beds.”

The old lady’s smile turned sad. “I’m so sorry, boys. I only have one room left at the moment, and it’s only got one double bed.”

Dean hesitated. “There’s no other room? Or maybe another motel around here?”

She shook her head. “Nothing ‘til the next town over. My niece might have a futon if one of you wants to take a jaunt down the street.”

“No, thank you,” Castiel interrupted Dean, who had been about to speak. “We’ll take the room with the double bed.”

Dean gave Castiel a wide-eyed look, but then tore his gaze away and nodded at the old lady.

She smiled widely at the pair of them. “Excellent!” Then she grabbed an old-fashioned key from the cabinet behind her and a tablet from under the desk. “Please sign in here. The room is $70 a night. Will you be paying by cash or credit?”

Once the room was all set and paid for, Castiel and Dean took the key and prepared to follow the old lady’s directions to their room, when her voice called out to them.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” she said. “My husband likes it cold, so the A/C runs pretty much constantly. So, there’s an extra blanket in the closet of the room, if you need it.”

Castiel glanced over at Dean, still shivering, and took a guess that they would probably need it.

Though there were other ways he could think of to keep Dean warm…


	6. The A/C Motel

Dean was wet and chilled to the bone from the combination of the downpour outside and the wickedly efficient air conditioner in the motel.

_Honestly,_ he thought, _this air conditioner should win a medal._

It had to be less than 60°F.

He was also exhausted from the last few days on the road, first to New York, then back across the country.

Not to mention his frustration over not being in Los Angeles yet to find Sam and Charlie, despite having driven pretty much non-stop up until then, and his increasing confusion when it came to Castiel.

Dean shivered again as he followed said angel into their motel room.

Their room with one bed.

One _double_ bed. Not a king, or even a queen.

A bed which was staring up at him like a beckoning, stress-inducing demon. Both tempting and terrifying at the same time.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Dean stated promptly, dumping his bag at the foot of the bed.

Then, without even a glance over at Castiel, he practically bolted into the bathroom, firmly shutting the door behind him.

Safely inside, Dean leaned back against the door for a second.

_What the hell am I doing?_ he asked himself.

Sure, it sucked that they would have to wait until the next day for the rim to be repaired and the tire replaced, but at least they were lucky that the shop had even been open that late on a Sunday. Dean hadn’t even known what day of the week it was when they had been towed into town. It was not like he had a nine-to-five job where he had to remember things like that.

Dean sighed.

_Another delay_ _…_

Not that he truly had much to complain about regarding the first delay, as it had been intentional and, dare he say it, fun.

_This_ delay, however, had certainly _not_ been planned, and it was costing them not half an hour, but a full night of driving time.

Dean clenched his hands into fists, cursing himself.

But that was not what had him hiding out in the bathroom. Nor was it his desire to get under that hot spray of water, evidenced by the fact that he hadn’t even started the shower yet.

No, he was hiding so he didn’t have to face Castiel.

Dean told himself it had been the fair that had started it, but if he was being honest with himself, it had begun a long, long time ago.

And his own reaction to Castiel’s words in the Prius, just before the accident, was finally forcing him to come to terms with the truth.

_I love you just the way you are._

Because Dean loved him to. And not just in the platonic way of close friends, as he was gradually accepting.

Dean wanted him. Wanted his angel so badly. Not just for sexy times (though that thought had a sensual shudder running through Dean as well), but for everything that came along with it. Holding hands. Cuddling. Leaning on each other when things got tough.

But he was scared, and yes, he was man enough to admit that… to himself, at least.

Castiel was his friend. His best and closest friend. And the last thing Dean wanted was to mess that up. Sam, if he was here, would argue that Dean and Castiel had both already tested the bounds of their friendship many, many times over the last ten years, and they had still rebounded back from those rough patches, often stronger than ever.

But Dean couldn’t see it that way. To him, an argument, a fight, those were things that could be forgiven and forgotten.

But a confession of deeper feelings? Of desiring more than friendship from another person? That was something that stuck. Something that could push between two people until they couldn’t even see past the giant, awkward, emotional elephant.

So, Dean had kept his mouth shut. He enjoyed their friendship as it was. It was enough.

Or… at least it had used to be.

This trip though… It had brought Dean’s feeling for Castiel to the surface, and he felt like they were just roiling beneath his skin. So close to breaking free. So nearly visible to everyone around him. Including Castiel. _Especially_ Castiel.

A knock on the bathroom door startled Dean enough to make him jump.

“Are you okay?” he heard Castiel ask through the door.

“I’m fine!” he called back, quickly tearing himself away from the door and actually starting the shower. Beneath the sound of the spray he could just make out Castiel’s footsteps moving away.

Cursing himself, Dean stripped and climbed into the stall, wishing he could stay forever under the steaming water.

“I’m sorry,” he heard Castiel say as Dean exited the bathroom a good half hour later, wrapped in a towel. He had certainly taken his time soaking in the heat.

He didn’t look over at his angel, standing over by the window, as he rummaged through his bag for a clean pair of pants, trying not to shiver as the freezing air in the bedroom whispered over his exposed, shower-heated skin. Castiel must have been watching the rain fall. “What are you sorry for? I’m the idiot who hit the pot hole.” Then he added, “More like a sink hole,” in a frustrated mutter, tossing a sheathed knife back in his bag with a little more force than necessary.

“True, but I distracted you.”

Dean’s eyes snapped back to Castiel, then immediately away again. “Um, distracted? I—Um, don’t know what you’re talking about, Cas.”

From the corner of his eye, Dean could see Castiel raise an eyebrow, like, “Oh, we’re not talking about it? Really?”

No. No, they absolutely were not going to talk about the fact that Castiel had said “I love you” to Dean.

It wasn’t like it was the first time. Though, Dean admitted, it had been the first time it had been just the two of them when Castiel had said it.

_And why does that mean anything?_ Dean demanded of himself. _He still only meant it as a friend. Or perhaps a brother._

And they were _definitely_ not going to talk about Dean’s mini-crisis in the bathroom.

Dean finally located some pants and a shirt, and dragged the zipper of his duffel closed, nearly pulling it off it’s track.

Sneaking a glance, he saw that Castiel was still watching him with that raised eyebrow. Though his eyes had gone a little sad and his mouth had lost some of its teasing quirk.

Avoiding Castiel’s gaze was how he finally noticed that there was food on the bedside table.

Burgers. And was that… _pie_?

Dean’s mouth watered automatically and his stomach let loose an audible grumble.

Castiel rolled his eyes, but the tease had come back at that sound. “It’s for you. Help yourself.”

And that’s when Dean felt like an idiot for not noticing that Castiel was freshly wet, obviously from going out in the deluge to fetch dinner for him.

Dean swallowed. “You should take a shower, too. I’m all warm from it now, and I absolutely refuse to let you in the bed when you’re still dripping with freezing rain water.”

Castiel frowned, examining himself. “I would have dried off first. I also don’t really need to sleep. So you can have the bed to yourself.”

Dean shook his head, moved to Castiel, spun him around by his shoulders, and pushed him toward the bathroom. “Go. Warm up. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

Castiel relented and disappeared into the bathroom with an odd backward look at Dean that he didn’t try to think too much about.

Once the shower was running, Dean made quick work of the food, threw every single blanket he could find on the bed, then crawled under the heap to escape the damned air conditioner.

After not nearly as much time as Dean had taken, Castiel emerged from the bathroom. Dean subtly peeked over the edge of his blanket-cave at Castiel, sans suit and trench coat, wearing only the towel wrapped around his waist.

When Castiel reached for the same suit pants that he had been wearing earlier, however, Dean stopped him with a “wait.”

Castiel looked over and Dean waved a hand at the second shirt and pair of pants he had pulled out specifically for Castiel to borrow.

And the smile he earned was totally worth it.

After Castiel had gotten dressed, Dean shifted over to one side of the bed.

But Castiel headed for one of the chairs by the small table instead.

Dean hesitated. Cleared his throat.

Castiel glanced his way, head tilted to the side.

_Am I actually going to do this?_

Another throat clearing. Then: “You should rest too, Cas.” A pause, then he added, “While you can. We might need all your strength to rescue Sam, and possibly Charlie as well. So, best to be on the cautious side.”

Which made perfect sense. Was it a little out of character for Dean? Yes.

But somehow, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Who knew when such an excuse to be this close to Castiel would come up again?

Castiel seemed a little surprised, but immediately accepted Dean’s reasoning.

He strode over to the bed.

Dean shifted back a little more, and Castiel made his way under the pile of fabric.

Already Dean’s toasty heat from the shower was gone and although he had plenty of blankets, none were very thick, being meant for hot, Arizona weather. So, as Castiel got closer and that additional heat source radiated to him, Dean longed to get even closer to it. Closer to Castiel. To snuggle in tight.

But he didn’t.

In the name of their friendship. Because there wasn’t a chance of his feelings truly being returned the way he meant them.

He had already pushed things far enough.

Castiel was an angel, and as such, was _way_ out of anyone’s league. Especially out of the league a beaten-down hunter with fifty bucks to his name, years of dark, depressing baggage in tow, and a future full of danger and death ahead of him—however short that future might be.

As Dean had learned from experience, no one would want a man like that as their life partner. Let alone an immortal angel.

Any yet, somehow, there he was. Staring at Dean expectantly across the beg with those baby blues.

_What does he want me to do?_ Dean wondered. _That look—It can_ _’t mean—_

Dean squeezed his eyes shut.

_He doesn_ _’t know what his eyes are implying right now,_ Dean determined. _He_ _’s just cold. We’re both just… cold._

But Dean couldn’t have felt further from cold right at that moment. With Castiel radiating sun-strength body heat, just inches from his own skin, two meager layers of cloth separating them, Dean suspected he could just as easily overheat.

Castiel had always run hot.

He’d known that little tidbit since the first time Castiel had pinned him to a wall, that intense warmth seeping deep into his bones where he held him, pressed against him.

Although, he probably should have suspected even earlier, from the way angels tended to burn out the eyes of those who saw them. Not to mention the burn scar of Castiel’s handprint.

Dean’s right hand automatically drifted to the spot on his upper left arm. No trace of the scar remained, yet sometimes Dean could swear he felt something there. A tightness of the skin. A tingle in the muscles underneath.

Like right now. He forced his hand to rest on the mattress, between himself and Castiel, his fingers twitching as he fought the urge to rub the spot.

He opened his eyes.

Castiel was still staring at him.

“You should sleep,” Dean mumbled, shifting on his spot.

Castiel answered, “Like I said, I don’t really need to sleep, though I don’t mind resting.”

“I know that,” he protested. He had just been… distracted.

“ _You_ should sleep.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

Then Castiel frowned. “Are you still cold?” And then he was abruptly shuffling closer to Dean. Legs and arms brushed, and suddenly Dean was being manhandled until he was rolled over, facing the other side of the miniature motel room.

And Castiel was pressed against his back.

And Castiel’s leg was thrown over his own.

And Castiel’s arm was wrapping around waist.

“ _Cas_ —” Dean began.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I know,” Castiel interrupted. “Personal space.” The arm began to withdraw. The scorching heat of his body moving away.

Dean caught Castiel’s wrist. That hadn’t been what he was going to say.

“It’s okay. I was a little cold.”

He hadn’t been.

The arm and toasty heat returned.

“Okay,” he heard Castiel say, almost directly in his ear.

Dean swallowed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dean allowed his eyes to fall closed once more and permitted his hunter-trained muscles to relax. All was safe. All was right.

Everything was… perfect.

Well, almost perfect.

Castiel was still an angel, after all. Still his best friend. Still unreachable, even as Dean’s hand on Castiel’s wrist released only just enough to rest comfortably on Castiel’s arm, keeping it in place.

Still out of his league.

Even still, he barely thought of Sam at all as he drifted off to sleep, his worry for his brother resting in the back of his mind, surrounded by the peace that came with being wrapped in Castiel.

Castiel could not only hear, but also feel Dean’s breathing as the exhausted man drifted off to sleep.

Not for the first time, he was infinitely grateful that he didn’t require as much rest as a human. With everything he’d been through, he did require some, if simply to recharge himself mentally and emotionally.

In this instance, it allowed him this rare opportunity of uninterrupted physical closeness with his hunter.

With people he trusted, Dean was fairly free with his hugs. Castiel, himself, had been on the receiving end of many of those all-encompassing embraces, particularly fierce after they had been separated for a while.

But those hugs had nothing on simply being next to Dean and remaining there, in constant physical contact. Without external or internal forces getting in the way of simply enjoying the intimacy such contact provided.

That kind of contact, Castiel had noticed, Dean was less comfortable with.

Unless is was sexual in nature, of course. _That_ , Dean had never initiated with Castiel. Often to Castiel’s chagrin.

If he were human, he would definitely have— _What was the term?_ Castiel pondered. _Ah—_ blue balls from sexual frustration.

Luckily, Castiel could be patient.

He could wait until Dean was ready.

However long that took.

Though, he did hope that it didn’t take too much longer. Ten years was a long time… And that being said by a millennias-old angel.

With one last look at Dean’s serene sleeping face, Castiel slowed his thoughts, cleared his mind, and rested.

And he was awoken a few hours later by motion within his arms.

Dean was shifting, and a quick check, made easier by the fact that Dean had rotated in his sleep to face Castiel, told him that he was still sleeping.

“No…” Dean cried softly; his voice plaintive.

He was having a nightmare.

“Dean,” Castiel called softly. He gently shook his shoulder. “Dean, wake up.”

Dean moaned despairingly. “No… Sam…”

_Oh, Dean_ , Castiel thought. Shaking him more firmly, Castiel said, “Dean, it’s a nightmare. Just a nightmare.”

Finally, Dean’s eyes snapped open, and at the same instant he shot up in bed, shoulder-checking Castiel in the process, as his right hand disappeared under the pillow.

Immediately, Castiel’s arm shot up and he caught Dean’s wrist with the deadly sharp blade inches from his chest.

The _angel_ blade. Dean had evidently upgraded his personal protection practises.

Dean blinked slowly at the hand on his wrist. Then his eyes shifted upward to meet Castiel’s as Castiel released him. He blinked some more and Castiel witnessed the moment when Dean truly awoke, rather than running on instincts.

“Cas! What—” His eyes dropped down again and the blade fell from his fingers, his face taking on an expression of horror. “I—I nearly killed you!”

“It’s okay,” Castiel assured him. “You were dreaming. It was an accident.”

“Cas. I nearly _killed_ you.” Dean ran a hand through his hair, violently pulling at the strands. “Dammit!” He let go of his hair and stared at his hands like they had betrayed him.

Obviously, he wasn’t interested in returning the angel blade to its position under his pillow, so Castiel removed it from the bedspread and set it on the bedside table.

“It was an accident, Dean,” Castiel insisted. “You pulled a gun on Jack when he woke you up that one time, remember. In fact, I believe you’ve done a similar thing multiple times in the past. To myself, Sam, Bobby—”

“Dammit, Cas, don’t remind me!”

“—but you’ve never drawn blood. Never pulled the trigger,” Castiel continued, pining down Dean’s gaze with his own. “I just happened to be a little too close this time.”

Dean winced. “So, you’re saying everyone just needs to stay away from me. Keep their distance.”

_Well, that didn_ _’t go as intended._ “No, Dean. No. That’s not what I meant at all.”

Dean’s face took on a stubborn set, his eyes narrowing. “No? Then what about—What if there’s—What if I let… someone close and it happens again? What if it’s worse?”

“It won’t happen again.”

“If you really think I’m—”

“It won’t happen again because you won’t need such protection.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes had rounded in surprise.

“I’m here, right at your side. You don’t need a weapon under your pillow, because I’m your protection.”

A flush rose in Dean’s checks and spread down his neck. Castiel followed its progress with his eyes, something he suddenly wanted to do with his tongue as well.

Dean’s chest rose and fell with quicker, harsher breathes than normal, as if he couldn’t quite draw in enough air.

Castiel met those blue eyes once more. He leaned in closer.

“What about when you’re not there?”

Castiel paused. Keeping his eyes on Dean’s, he raised a hand and brushed it tenderly along Dean’s upper arm, the exact spot he knew used to bear his handprint.

He felt Dean shudder under his fingertips.

“Do you want me to not be there? With you?”

Dean’s breathes stopped. Held. Started again rapider and shallower.

“I—You—What are you saying, Cas?”

And Castiel looked at Dean. He looked at the hesitation and uncertainty in his eyes. In the rigid tenseness of his posture. In the breaths he took and the racing of his heart that Castiel could hear.

_He_ _’s not ready._

And Castiel withdrew his hand and leaned back, away from Dean.

“I’m just saying that I’m here for you. Whenever you need me. Always.” And he lay back down on the bed, patting Dean’s pillow, as well. “Go back to sleep. Dawn is still quite a few hours away.”

And as Castiel had known it would, the tenseness drained out of Dean.

In fact, a lot seemed to drain out of Dean, and his hunter actually appeared somewhat despondent as he lay back down.

But then he turned away, facing the opposite direction from Castiel, severing contact.

A Castiel became suddenly disheartened. Had he made a mistake?

But a moment later, Dean scooted back on the bed until he was pressed lightly against Castiel, just as before.

Smiling, Castiel placed his arm back in its place across Dean’s waist. Dean adjusted, sighed, then his body relaxed fully against Castiel’s chest.

For the second time that night, Castiel watched as Dean fell asleep in his arms. Without anything tucked under his pillow.

_Progress,_ Castiel thought happily. It wasn’t even “first base,” as Dean would say, but it was progress.

Comfortable, content, and with hope for finding Sam and Charlie, and his future with Dean, Castiel happily dozed off into rest once more.

In fact, it was probably the happiest he’d been for a long time…

The storm finally subsided in the small hours of the morning, and Castiel watched the sun rise through the window, whose curtains they had forgotten to close the night before.

And Castiel wasn’t nearly ready to remove himself from the bed, where Dean had remained snuggled against him for the rest of the night after his nightmare.

Though, somehow, Dean had managed to shift onto his stomach, pinning Castiel’s arm beneath him, and throwing his own arm over Castiel’s torso. His cheek rested against Castiel’s shoulder as Castiel lay on his back.

Gradually, the sun lightened the room, highlighting Dean’s handsome features, kissing his skin. Castiel decided then that he would never get enough of that sight.

Castiel waited as long as he could, until just before the point when Dean would question why he hadn’t woken him up earlier.

Then, double checking that the angel blade was still safely on the bedside table, he began to gently extract his arm from beneath his hunter, fully expecting Dean to bolt awake again.

And indeed, his eyes did snap open and he startled, but those green eyes almost immediately zeroed in on Castiel’s face above him, and Dean relaxed right back onto the mattress.

As Castiel watched, his eyelids started to fall shut once more, but then snapped back open with one word: “Sam.”

And Castiel knew Dean would not be going back to sleep any time soon.

He climbed out of the bed as Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes.

A few short minutes later, they had washed up, checked out, and were walking to a coffee shop down the road that the motel owner had recommended to grab some coffee and breakfast before the auto repair shop opened for the day.

Even still, they arrived before the mechanic was in. Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait too long, or Castiel might have had to do something about Dean’s pacing.

It seemed his anxiety about Sam had returned in full force, to Castiel’s consternation.

Thankfully, to Dean’s appreciation, the mechanic was quick and efficient, pressing the Prius’ rim into shape and replacing the tire itself with one from their stock in less than two hours.

By late morning, they were back on the highway headed west.


	7. Strange Behaviours

It had been a strange morning, after an even stranger night.

Dean was almost grateful to have Sam’s, and potentially Charlie’s, perilous situation as a distraction from everything going on between himself and Castiel.

They had both been acting relatively normal this morning, or at least, Dean hoped he was acting normal. Because inside he felt anything but.

He and Castiel had cuddled. Actually _cuddled_. And if he wasn’t already out of his mind with worry for Sam and Charlie, he would be out of his mind panicking over that fact.

Some people could wake up in the middle of the night, hold a full conversation, and completely forget about it come morning. Dean was not one of those people. He remembered _everything_.

Including when he had practically thrown himself at Castiel, pressing himself against his angel, after Castiel had awoken him from the nightmare he had been having.

That nightmare had shaken him badly. A montage of all the times Sam had died, despite Dean’s attempts to save him, and all the times Sam had nearly died as well, but in his dream, he actually had. Each failure had been thrown in Dean’s face, all the more potent because of Sam’s current situation, and whatever trouble that had prompted that gut-wrenching phone call.

And yet, despite Dean’s panicked and distraught mindset in the middle of the night, Castiel had behaved like a perfect gentleman. He had allowed Dean the contact and to take comfort from Castiel, but he hadn’t made a move of his own. All after Dean had nearly _killed_ him.

Despite Castiel’s assurances afterward, Dean still couldn’t forgive himself for that. It had been _way_ too close. Something that never should have happened at all.

And then there was what Castiel had said. His promise to protect Dean. As if he would always be there, right beside him. Even… Well, it had almost seemed as if he had implied that even included at night. Like, when Dean was sleeping.

As in, Castiel would be there. In the same room. In the same… bed?

Dean ran a hand through his hair, growling under his breath in frustration as he pumped gas into the Prius’ tank. He just didn’t _know_!

Before he could overanalyze further, however, his phone rang as he was finishing up at the pump. He hung up the nozzle and glanced at the caller ID.

“Hey, Jack,” he said in greeting.

“Hi, sorry to call. Mary told me not to, but I need to ask you a question.”

Dean frowned. _What?_ “Why did my mom tell you not to call me?”

“Oh, uh. I’m not quite sure.”

_Well,_ Dean thought. _Jack still sucks at lying._

“Jack,” he said, pitching his voice low. He could practically see Jack growing more and more nervous.

“I, uh—” he stuttered. Until he blurted out, “She told me not to tell!”

Dean held back a snort of laughter at how easy Jack was to get the truth out of. He pulled out his best ‘I’m the boss of you’ voice from his days parenting Ben. “What did she not want you to tell me? What’s going on, Jack?”

“Uh, I’ve gotta go!”

At least the kid knew when he was beaten. But Dean wasn’t about to let him flee the conversation.

“What about your question?” he said, before Jack could hang up.

“Oh! Um, where’s the remote to the TV in your room?”

“Why on earth do you need the remote to my TV?”

“Well, the one in the common room kind of broke…”

The Prius’ door opened and Castiel climbed out, clearly wondering what was taking Dean so long based on his expression.

“And you just figured you’d use the one in my room instead? What about Cas’s?”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow.

_Jack_ , Dean mouthed at him.

Castiel’s mouth lifted into a smile and he nodded, leaning against the Prius to wait, and unabashedly eavesdrop on Dean’s side of the conversation. Dean rolled his eyes and pressed the speakerphone button.

“Cas’s gets these lines on it sometimes. Yours is much clearer.”

“You hear that, Cas?” Dean said, amused. “My TV is better than yours, apparently.”

“Why are we discussing televisions?”

“Because the one in the main room seems to be mysteriously broken.”

“It wasn’t me,” Jack protested. “I found it like that.”

“Sure, kid,” Dean said, chuckling. “The remote’s in the top drawer of my nightstand. Do _not_ go in the bottom drawer, or so help me, I will find a way to teleport over there and you won’t like the result. Got it?”

“Got it! Thanks, Dean.” Nothing deterred that kid.

“Oh, and Jack?”

“Yes?”

“Why did my mom tell you not to call?”

“Bye, Dean! Bye, Cas!” _Click._

“Dammit. Smart kid.”

“What’s in the bottom drawer, Dean?” Castiel asked, a smugly intrigued look on his face.

“Uh, nothing important,” Dean hedged. Then he took Jack’s lead and immediately escaped into the gas station to pay for their gas, leaving Castiel grinning behind him.

A few minutes later, Dean called Mary from the road.

“Hi, Dean. How is everything?”

“Tire’s all fixed and we’ve been driving all morning without any other incidents. So, so far, so good.”

“That’s great to hear. I don’t have any news for you, unfortunately. My contact’s still following those werewolves, but no sign of Sam or Charlie yet.”

Dean sighed. “Alright. Not much we can do about that, but let me know as soon as you hear anything.”

“I will, Dean.”

“Thanks. And mom, that wasn’t the only reason why I called.”

“What is it?”

“Jack called earlier.”

“Oh. Did he now?” It was hard to tell over the long-distance cell phone connection, but Dean could swear Mary’s voice had just gotten tense.

“Yeah, and he said something funny.”

“Funny how?”

_Hm, so she’s playing it that way, huh? Then let’s cut to the chase._

“He said you had told him not to call.”

“Oh, that!” Mary seemed relieved, which had Dean frowning. “I just didn’t want him distracting you while you were driving. And I know you have enough on your plate, worrying about Sam, to need Jack pestering you unless it was urgent.”

“I… I suppose that makes sense.”

He glanced over at Castiel, who was listening, but Castiel just shrugged.

“Was that all, Dean?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Okay, well, I’ll let you go then. Got to get back on the road myself. Trying to run down a few things that might help locate Sam and Charlie. Oh, and I heard that there’s a big storm that you’re headed straight into, so be careful. Love you, Dean. Say hi to Castiel for me.”

“Love you, too. We will, and I will,” he replied.

Then she hung up and the line went dead.

Castiel seemed contemplative when Dean glanced over one more time.

“What’s on your mind?”

After a moment, his angel simply said, “Not quite sure yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Uh, okay, Cas. Sure.”

Then Castiel went back to staring out the window, and Dean was left thinking about how strangely everyone was acting lately.

By late afternoon, the storm that Mary had predicted was on top of them. The downpour reduced the visibility by at least half. The windshield wipers were on their fastest speed, and it was still barely making a dent in the deluge that was pouring down.

Dean was rigid in his seat, hands tense on the steering wheel as all his concentration was focused on the road ahead of him. Luckily, they hadn’t seen another vehicle for miles, but unfortunately, that also meant that the road and landscape around them was almost as dark as night outside of the beam of the Prius’ headlights.

When the first bolt of lightning struck the desert, Dean jumped, nearly sending them careening onto the sand if he hadn’t managed to correct his reflexive jerk on the wheel.

Then the second and third bolts came in quick succession, followed by some of the loudest thunder Dean had ever heard. That third bolt had felt like it was almost right outside the car.

It was after that that Castiel told him to pull over.

“What do you mean, pull over? In this mess? We have to keep moving. Better to get to a town.”

“There isn’t another one for a few hours, Dean.” Another lightning strike, followed by thunder that shook the car. “You can barely see and we’re the tallest thing around here, which means the chances that the lightning strikes us… Well, let’s just say we’ve been lucky so far. I’d rather not have to drag, deep-fried hunter the rest of the way to Los Angeles, thank you.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Castiel was right. Visibility was just becoming worse, the lightning was increasing in intensity, and it would just be foolish to keep driving in it.

And after the scolding he had received from Castiel after his reckless driving at the beginning of the trip, Dean was not anxious for another lecture.

So, he pulled over.

“Hopefully the storm will pass quickly. Ones this intense usually have a short life span,” Castiel said as Dean shut off the engine.

It didn’t pass quickly.

They waited. And waited. And waited.

An hour later, the storm was just as intense as when they had first pulled over, and Dean was finding it difficult to sit still.

The Prius was small and cramped to begin with, but at least before they had been driving with a destination in mind and a view that at least changed as they drove to cut through the monotony at least a little bit.

Outside the Prius, the sky was a dark grey, almost black, and it was so dark out that Dean could almost swear it was night, if his phone, which he constantly checked, didn’t consistently remind him that it was only late afternoon.

Inside, it was even darker, except for when the lightning lit up the sky for a split second.

And each time it did, Dean found his eyes searching for Castiel before the light faded into darkness again. And each time, Castiel was there, staring right back at him.

The windows were beginning to fog up, thanks to the heat they were giving off and the cool air the storm had brought with it.

Dean ran his hand down his window, leaving behind clear streaks dotted with condensation, rain running down the outside of the glass, just as another lightning strike touched down.

The thunder boomed.

He checked his phone again. It only told him what his stomach already knew: dinner hour.

“The sun will set in a couple hours,” Castiel said. “If this storm doesn’t let up, we might be stuck here for the night.”

“If this storm doesn’t let up in the next half hour, I’m driving though it.”

“Dean.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Cas. We’ve been delayed enough as it is. Like hell am I spending a night out here in the middle of nowhere just because of a little rain.”

Lightning. Thunder. As if the storm was taking offense.

Dean winced.

“A little rain?”

“Okay, a lot of rain. But I still refuse to be stuck in one place another night. So, better to see if we can escape it while there’s still some light left in the sky.”

Castiel seemed to consider this. “Fine. If the storm doesn’t break in thirty minutes, we’ll leave. _But_ only if you promise to drive slowly. There could be obstacles in the road you won’t be able to see until it’s too late. Animals, downed trees—”

“I get it, Cas. And I promise. I’ll drive slowly.”

Satisfied, Castiel nodded. “Thank you.”

Dean checked his phone again. Earlier, he had tried looking up the Weather Network and finding out how long the storm was supposed to last, but the service on his phone was too low to load the webpage, let alone the weather map.

He could probably make a call or send a text with the one or two bars he had, depending on how he held his phone, but surfing the web was clearly too much for the limited connection.

Nonetheless, he tried again.

Nothing.

Dean sighed.

“Sam is strong. If something happened to him, he’ll fight back. He’ll hold on,” Castiel said softly.

“I know that. Of course, I know that. I practically raised him. I know—I know how strong he is.” Dean’s voiced cracked.

_I’m losing it. Get it together, Dean,_ he chastised himself.

“There’s something going on here that we don’t see. Something behind the scenes.” Dean examined Castiel. His angel had his arm propped against the car door and his head was resting against his hand and the glass, as he gazed out at the storm.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you not think Mary was acting strangely each time we’ve spoken? Ever since Sam’s phone call?”

Dean thought back on their conversations. He shrugged. “I suppose a little. But come on. She’s our mom. She’s bound to be worried for Sam and that’s probably what’s throwing her off. Hell, I know it’s throwing me off.”

Castiel eyes left the storm to find Dean’s face. “You are strong, too,” he said seriously, lifting his head and shifting closer.

Dean swallowed, shifting in his own seat. “Not as strong as you,” Dean said. He had aimed for teasing, trying to lighten the suddenly intense mood in the too-small Prius, but it ended up coming out a little strained.

Castiel didn’t smile, but kept his serious expression. “I meant emotionally. You’ve been under a lot of strain. Almost constantly over the years, even. Yet, you’ve never given in. Never given up.”

Dean gave a bitter chuckle. “I’ve thought about it, trust me. A lot, in fact. Remember when I nearly said ‘yes’ to Michael and you beat the shit out of me?”

Finally, a smile appeared on Castiel’s lips, making Dean laugh. “Oh, that’s good memory is it?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not exactly. I didn’t enjoy making you feel pain, but I was so mad at the time. You had just tricked me and then banished me. But you were trying to save Adam. In a misguided attempt, but still, your heart was in the right place. You weren’t giving up. So that instance doesn’t count.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. But there were other times. You know what I meant.”

“I did it all for you, you know.”

“What?” The tone of the conversation, which had become lighthearted as they had spoken of the past, abruptly got serious again. Dean tried to lighten it again: “I mean, I know you did. You’ve said so before.”

“But do you though?”

Those blue eyes, almost black in the dim lighting, stared deeply into his own, refusing to break contact. Dean wanted to look away from that stare. He wanted to pretend he wasn’t reading what he hoped he was reading in Castiel’s eyes, tone, and words.

He wanted to run away from the conversation, from the Prius, from Castiel and all the feelings that surged inside of him as his angel leaned in closer.

“Do you know what I meant?” Castiel asked again.

He wanted to scoff at the question and say, “Of course.” Like it was nothing. Like, of course, he knew.

Castiel words: _I gave everything for you._

Meaning all of them. Sam. Bobby. Humans. The whole world.

_You._

But he also wanted to believe what he hoped was true. That _you_ didn’t mean the world. But only him. Dean.

That Castiel had rebelled, given up everything, for _him_. One lonely human.

“Cas, I—”

_Flash. Boom._

Dean jumped, nearly bashing his skull against Castiel’s face. Immediately, he scooted backward, not having realized how close they had gotten.

The past, which had crept up on him, faded back where it belonged, until once again it felt like it had happened years and years ago.

_Which it had,_ Dean reminded himself. _So long ago…_

Dean searched Castiel’s face, trying to guess his thoughts, but Castiel had retreated as well and Dean couldn’t exactly place his expression. Did Castiel look… defeated?

“The rain has stopped,” Castiel stated solemnly.

Dean’s gaze swept the horizon and the sun peeking out from under the storm clouds as it dipped in the west. The storm had finally moved on.

“I guess we should get going.”

“I suppose so.”


	8. Cramped Spaces

After the storm, they stopped at the first town they came to simply to have a chance to get out of the car. Well, primarily for Dean to get out of the car.

Castiel pretended not to watch as his hunter stretched out the kinks and stiff muscles from sitting in the Prius for so long.

Perhaps the car had been a good choice after all, if it allowed Castiel to view that sight more often.

They did, however, take full advantage of the stop to fill up the gas tank once more, grab some food, and use the facilities.

Castiel did the former, while Dean looked after the later two.

Then, Castiel took over driving for the night while Dean slept.

Or tried to sleep, anyway. He tossed and turned fitfully, so Castiel was fairly certain he was still awake after another hour of driving.

They were finally getting close to Los Angeles. Already, despite all their delays, they had crossed the border into California and were now passing through the Mojave Desert.

Dean had started looking up maps of the city in order to plan out where to start searching for Sam, and Charlie as well, after they scoured his motel room, of course, but he’d had to stop once they fully entered the desert and his cell signal had dropped off.

With nothing better to do, Dean had tried to get some sleep.

Castiel wondered what was keeping him awake. Was it worry for Sam? Or perhaps their conversation from that afternoon while they had been stuck during the storm?

Dean never had responded to his question.

Castiel sighed to himself. He was disappointed that they hadn’t finished that particular conversation, but there would be time enough after Sam and Charlie were safe and sound.

He could be patient. Again.

The drive through the desert was quiet, and actually kind of peaceful for Castiel. Dean managed to doze off finally, and his light snores and the rhythmic sounds of the car and the desert lulled Castiel into an almost trance.

Of course, he was still fully aware of the road and everything around him. But angels were much better at multitasking while meditating than humans were.

So, it came as quite a shock when the car gave a sudden and tremendous _bang_ and careened out of control.

Dean startled awake as Castiel fought with the swerving car and brought it back into the proper lane with much difficulty.

The Prius, under Castiel’s direction, then proceeded to limp to the side of the road.

Immediately, Castiel whipped around to face Dean, demanding, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m okay,” he said, feeling his limbs. When he patted his chest, he winced. “Maybe a little bruised, but still fine.”

Without hesitation, Castiel reach over and placed a glowing hand on Dean’s chest, healing his bruises.

“Thanks. What happened?”

“I’m not sure. There hadn’t been anything in the road, I swear.”

“I believe you, Cas.”

Confident that Dean was alright, Castiel got out of the car to inspect the newest damage. Dean got out on his side and walked around to where Castiel was staring at the flat, front, driver’s side tire.

The same tire that had been previously damaged by the pot hole.

Dean knelt down to get a closer look.

“Damn. The repaired part of the rim bent again. It must have been in worse shape than we or the mechanic had thought, and I’m sure driving on it pretty much continuously since then didn’t help much. At least the new tie rod is still intact this time.”

With quick efficiency, Dean replaced the flat tire with the spare, but when he tried starting the car again, the engine refused to turn over. Something else must have broken or come lose during the blowout.

That news resulted in a significant amount of kicking and cursing.

Over the next two hours, they tried everything they could think of. They walked a mile in either direction, trying to get a signal with no success. And by that time, the phone batteries had run out, unable to be charged from the USB port in the Prius.

On the slim chance it would be something Dean could fix with what they had on hand, he tried to figure out the issue, but soon enough night had fully fallen and he could “barely see shit” in the light from the flashlight they had brought.

Dean mumbled something about missing his lantern from the Impala. Something Castiel inferred was specifically for this kind of purpose, and which Dean obviously hadn’t packed.

As they tried to figure out what to do next, the temperature, which had remained warm after sunset thanks to the heat rising from the sun-warmed sand and asphalt, started to drop.

It was probably only about 65°F or so, but after the high day temperatures, it felt like much less than that.

When Castiel noticed Dean shiver as he stared despairingly at the disabled Prius, he knew it was time to step up.

“Dean, there’s nothing we can do. We should settle in for the night.”

“We’re so close, Cas. Probably only a few hours away. But I just. Can’t. Get. There.” The utter defeat in Dean’s voice had Castiel’s chest constricting.

His hands were shaking. Actually, his whole body was shaking.

He looked ready to drop.

And Castiel reacted.

He walked up behind Dean and pulled his hunter into his arms.

“Cas?” Dean rasped.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay,” he murmured into Dean’s shoulder. “You can let go.”

Dean shuddered once. Twice. His hands clasped onto Castiel’s arms. The shaking intensified.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’ll be okay.”

“I can’t lose him again, Cas. I just—I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t promise that, Cas.”

“Yes, I can. If he dies, whether he goes to Heaven or Hell, it doesn’t matter. I’ll bring him back. For you.”

Dean released his death grip on Castiel’s arms and turned within their circle. He didn’t retreat or move back, just turned, so when he was facing Castiel, they were practically nose-to-nose, and Castiel’s arms where still wrapped around him.

Dean didn’t say anything. A tear still dripped down each cheek. Castiel longed to wipe them away. To never have to see Dean cry again, unless it was for joy.

He leaned forward, pressing their chests together, his head dropping towards Castiel’s face.

Castiel held his breath. _Is he…?_

Dean’s arms wrapped around Castiel’s waist.

_Is he really…?_

Castiel closed his eyes and… felt Dean’s face press into his shoulder.

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean said hoarsely. “For everything.”

Castiel let out his breath in a deep sigh, and pulled his arms tighter around his hunter, accepting Dean’s embrace and returning his own.

“You’re welcome, Dean. Always.”

A long howl broke the silence that had fallen around them.

Castiel lifted his head. “Coyote?”

Dean followed suit and they simultaneously stepped away from each other. Castiel missed the closeness already. Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, but it’s not so much them that we need to be worried about. In this area, it’s the bobcats.”

“Oh.”

Dean chuckled at Castiel’s reaction, and Castiel was grateful that at least he had been successful in reaching Dean through his panic.

“We should get in the car. Like you said, nothing we can do right now. Maybe in the morning, I’ll be able to see what the issue with the engine is. Or a car will actually pass by.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Castiel agreed.

So, that’s what they did.

The Prius had been small when they had been sitting properly in their seats.

Attempting to sleep even remotely comfortably in it?

Impossible.

Castiel, being slightly smaller and the one out of the two of them who didn’t technically need to sleep, was delegated the front of the car, while Dean tried to cram himself across the backseat.

Dean wasn’t overly big himself, not like Sam anyway, but even still, it was a tight fit and hardly looked anywhere close to comfortable.

“Dammit!” Dean swore for the umpteenth time, as he shifted about in the back.

After a few more minutes of shifting and swearing, Dean sat up. “That’s it. Cas, get out of the car.”

Somewhat offended, Castiel said, “What? Why?”

In the dim light given off by the moon, Castiel could just make out Dean rolling his eyes. “We’re changing things up in here. Trust me.”

Wondering what Dean was planning, Castiel awkwardly squeezed back onto one seat, then climbed out of the car.

Dean, having already gotten out, put down the back of the rear seats, revealing the trunk space behind. He moved to where Castiel had emerged from the _Sunshine Banana_ , grasped something under the seat and then proceeded to tilt the seat all the way back, until it was only a few inches from touching the back seat.

Then he went around and did the same thing to the passenger side of the vehicle.

At first, Castiel thought that was it, though he didn’t quite see how that would make Dean more comfortable, but then Dean opened up the trunk. From inside, he pulled out all of their clothing.

And when he started stuffing the clothing into the nooks and crannies remaining between the seats and also spreading the fabric across them, Castiel finally understood.

With Castiel now helping out, it only took them a couple minutes to make a sort of makeshift nest of fabric over the flattened seats.

Task accomplished: they could now stretch out from the trunk all the way to the dash. Granted, it was still nowhere near the size of an actual bed (and not even ranking in terms of real comfort) but it was a hundred times better than before.

They crawled in and settled themselves as best they could, side by side.

Castiel shifted and accidently elbowed Dean in the ribs.

Dean shifted and nearly caught Castiel in the nose.

Dean growled in frustration. “Alright, this is happening.”

Then, to Castiel’s ever-growing surprise that night, Dean leaned over, pulled Castiel onto his side, facing Dean, then Dean rolled himself over, to face away.

Reaching back, Castiel found themselves mimicking their position from the motel, when they had shared the bed there.

Castiel smiled behind Dean’s head and subtly pulled Dean a little closer.

A little bit more.

Then Dean huffed and pressed himself fully against Castiel’s front.

Satisfied, Castiel breathed in Dean’s scent and closed his eyes. “Yes, this is much better,” he murmured against the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean hummed his agreement. “Go to sleep, Cas.”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Shut up, Cas.”

“Okay.”

…

“Good night, Dean.”

“Dammit, Cas. Trying to sleep here.”

…

“G’night,” Dean mumbled.

As Dean’s muscles relaxed and his breathing became slow and steady, signs of his hunter dropping into peaceful slumber, Castiel allowed himself to drift as well, releasing his mind to wander as it pleased.

Castiel wasn’t surprised in the least as it chose to imagine a future where he could hold Dean like this every night.

One day, he promised himself. One day.


	9. Revelations

Dean was up at first light checking the car’s engine once more. In the light of morning, he was able to locate the single wire that had come loose during the blowout and get them back on the road.

Moving rapidly down the highway once more, with only about four hours to go until Los Angeles, the Prius was filled with Dean’s palpable anticipation to get to their destination.

As Dean drove, Castiel reflected fondly on the night before, holding his hunter close as he slept through the night. For the second time, even.

The car, despite their attempts to improve it, had been epically uncomfortable, but Castiel still wouldn’t have changed anything.

Except for the constant worry in the back of his mind for Sam, which he was sure was even worse for Dean. But stuck as they had been, there hadn’t been anything they could do at the time.

But on this trip, he and Dean had never been this physically close. Nor had they ever really had the kinds of heart-to-hearts they had been communicating since they had left New York.

Granted, they had all mostly been interrupted by something or another, but progress was progress in Castiel’s eyes.

Even now, back on the road, the signs were there.

In the way Dean kept glancing over and flushing whenever Castiel caught him doing it.

Which was every time, because Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off his hunter.

In the way Dean seemed constantly on the verge of saying something, but holding back.

_Say it, Dean,_ Castiel silently commanded. _Whatever it is, just say it._

Castiel thought his patience was finally running out. It always seemed too earlier than expected when it came to Dean Winchester.

About three hours in, they pulled over for a quick in-and-out break to top up the tank, stretch their legs, and use the bathroom.

Although he didn’t really need to use it, Castiel ventured into the washroom to splash some water on his face, something he had discovered from observing Dean all those years ago and had found quite refreshing.

While he was doing so, however, he managed to spill water all down Dean’s shirt that he was still wearing underneath his trench coat. With a sigh, he shucked off his coat and tugged off the shirt.

As he did so, he heard the bathroom door open.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel started to apologize, removing the fabric and turning, only to face a stunned Dean, mouth gaping.

Castiel resisted the urge to smirk. “I didn’t lock the bathroom door. I was just washing my face.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean stammered. “I can see that. But why are you,” a swallow, “stripping?”

Castiel raised the damp fabric as evidence. “My clothes got wet.”

Dean nodded rapidly, a bright red suffusing his cheeks and racing down his neck.

_Interesting._

Dean had seen his bare chest before, but this was the first time Castiel had gotten that reaction. Perhaps Dean’s mind had wandered to their physical contact over the last few days?

Castiel took a step closer, experimenting.

Dean’s eyes followed his movements.

He took another step.

Dean’s breath hitched.

Another. He was just inches away, standing directly in front of his hunter.

Dean gazed at him. Pupils blown wide. Short, quick breaths. Hands fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, as if unsure what they should be doing.

But his hunter stayed where he was, not backing away or trying to reclaim some physical distance.

_Very interesting._

Then, in one fluid motion, Castiel swept around Dean and exited the washroom.

Castiel had some plans to make.

Clearly, any plans would have to wait until after they rescued Sam from whatever trouble he was in and checked on Charlie, but after that it would be fair game.

He didn’t want to push Dean too hard, of course, but Castiel was beginning to think that perhaps Dean was readier than he thought to take the next step. Or least more open to it.

So, if Castiel could somehow arrange more situations like in the motel or the gas station washroom, then maybe it would help Dean come to the realization faster.

The realization that he and Castiel were meant to be together.

But in the meantime, Castiel drew on every ounce of his strength to be patient for a little while longer.

Dean looked a little frazzled as he approached the Prius, and Castiel had to supress his grin.

Oh, he would be making plans indeed.

Dean didn’t even want to think about what had just happened.

Thankfully, as he was walking to the car, his phone rang.

“Hey, Mom,” Dean said after answering it.

Mary’s voice, a soothing balm to Dean’s frazzled emotions, came over the line. “Hi, Dean. Just checking in. Are you and Castiel on the road again?”

“Yeah, we’re a little over an hour out, but I’m trying to shave another fifteen minutes off of that.”

“Don’t drive too fast, Dean,” Mary warned. “I know you want to get to Sam, trust me. But you have to keep yourself safe too. Don’t be reckless.”

Dean bit his tongue and didn’t tell Mary that he would be driving fast no matter what. There was no point in worrying her further. “We’re being safe, Mom. Any news?”

Dean spotted Castiel strolling over from where he must have been taking a brief walk, and waved him over, gesturing to the phone.

“Nothing yet,” Mary was saying. “The werewolf pack was a bust. Sam wasn’t hunting them.”

“Dammit.” Castiel came up beside him and Dean put the phone on speaker. “Cas is here.”

“Hi, Castiel.”

“Hello, Mary.” Castiel looked at Dean. “Nothing?” he asked him.

Dean shook his head, and Castiel frowned. Dean raised an eyebrow at the frown that seemed different than mere disappointment.

Mary was still speaking. “But you boys will be there soon. You can update me once you get there. I’m sure you’ll find Sam in no time.”

Now Dean was frowning. Was Mary a little too… upbeat?

He understood she might not be as attached as another mother, having missed pretty much Sam’s entire life, but still… He thought they had bonded enough to earn a little more panic. Or maybe just a little less optimism?

Not that he wanted Mary to be panicking, but it was just strange.

“Yeah, we’ll let you know what we find,” Dean responded.

“Great. So how are you boys? Keeping it together okay?”

“Um, we’re okay. Given the situation and all.”

“Of course, of course.”

Just then, Castiel made a gesture at him. “Hold on a second,” he said, and he muted the phone.

Castiel’s face held a serious expression, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips tight. “She’s hiding something,” he stated firmly.

Dean nodded in agreement.

He pressed unmute. “Mom, why are you asking so much about me and Castiel?”

A moment of silence. “I’m just worried about you both. Cas, you know I think of you like one of my boys, right?”

“Thank you, Mary.”

“You’re wel—”

But Castiel continued, “But I don’t believe that’s the real reason you’re inquiring so much about our wellbeing. Not when you should be worrying more about your other son.”

“Of course, I’m worried about Sam,” Mary growled.

Dean stepped in. “Mom, I know there’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

Another silence. Then a sigh. “Well, you’re nearly there anyway, so I suppose there’s not much point keeping it secret any longer. Not if you already suspect something’s off.”

Castiel looked so satisfied that Dean rolled his eyes and punched his angel lightly on the arm. Castiel fake-scowled at him in protest, but he also poked Dean in the shoulder in return, and Dean had to supress a chuckle.

Returning to the conversation, Dean mustered a serious voice and said, “Tell us.”

And Mary revealed it all. The entire plot.

_Sam_ _’s_ entire plot.

Because naturally it was all Sam’s idea. The evil genius.

Mary didn’t go into the nitty gritty of Sam’s reasoning behind the plan, though Dean certainly had his suspicions, but she outlined how it had all gone down.

First, Sam had created a fake job in Los Angeles as an excuse for himself.

In the meantime, he had gotten Mary to drop the hint that Dean should work on the Impala’s engine. Once he had been taking it apart, she and Bobby were to go on a job to New York.

Specifically, the vampire job which had been carefully orchestrated by Charlie who was not actually in Los Angeles with Sam after all. Charlie had driven the vampires to New York, where Mary and Bobby had taken over and placed the call to get Dean and Castiel there.

That way, he and Castiel would have the maximum possible distance to travel, and thus, the maximum length of time stuck in the car together.

When Sam schemed, he schemed to the max.

At that point, with all the pieces in place, Sam had made his phone call. The very fake phone call that had completely fooled Dean.

Bobby had messed with the Thunderbird’s engine, and Charlie had ensured that only a single, banana-yellow Prius was left available at the only open car rental place.

And the rest was history.

As for _why_ , all Mary said was that Sam had planned the cross-country trip specifically for the two of them.

Yes, for Dean and Castiel, as if he was doing them a favour.

One last item Mary mentioned: Sam wasn’t in Los Angeles either, but back in the bunker, safe and sound. He had also apparently booked them a hotel room in LA, a _specific_ hotel room, according to Mary.

After they had hung up, Dean knew one thing was certain: revenge was going to be _sweet_.

While Dean was full of plots and scathing words for Sam, Castiel, on the other hand, appeared contemplative.

And that’s when it struck Dean.

He and Castiel didn’t technically need to go to Los Angeles anymore. Sam was fine. They were at this truck stop, with no purpose and nowhere they actually needed to be.

All of a sudden, there were no distractions from the fact that it was just him, Castiel, a tiny Prius, and the open road.

_What the hell am I supposed to do now?_ Dean wondered.


	10. After Ten Long Years

In the end, they decided to finish the trip into Los Angeles, take some much-needed proper rest, and trade in the _Sunshine Banana_ for something a little more spacious, before taking a leisurely trip back across the country to Lebanon.

Upon arriving at Sam’s chosen hotel, Dean took a moment to stare up at the swanky, upscale building that was not at all like the motels they usually frequented.

The amused valet took the Prius’ key fob from Dean as Castiel stepped up to him.

“This is nice,” the angel was saying.

Dean nodded, immediately suspicious of Sam’s intentions.

The interior was just as posh as the exterior, to Dean’s disbelief. Sam must have blown some serious cash on this, he mused.

They approached the front desk and the hostess greeted them with a cheery smile.

“Checking in?”

“Yes.” Dean checked Mary’s text with reservation details and flushed just as hotly as he had the first time he had read it. “For Mr. Bert and Ernie Novak.”

He purposefully didn’t look at the angel standing beside him.

The hostess gave a bemused him a look, but typed a few things on her touchscreen and then pulled a couple key cards through the card reader.

“Congratulations,” she said, handing the cards over to Dean. “The honeymoon suite is just up the south elevator and to your left. Please enjoy your stay with us.”

Dean gaped at the hostess, but Castiel’s firm hand on his waist guided him away from the front desk and toward the elevator. “Come on, dear,” Castiel said, his voice teasing.

Dean resisted retaliating in public.

The door to the honeymoon suite opened onto a vision in white and rose gold. Subtle splashes of blush pink were thrown in as well. From the plush carpet, to the oversized and canopied bed, to the electric fireplace, everything was soft and airy, and misted with romance.

Dean wandered over to the balcony, hoping to briefly escape from the vibes of the room, only to find the most stunning view overlooking the ocean.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a view like this.

At high noon, the beach-goers were out in full force and the scents wafting up from the food trucks was making Dean’s stomach growl.

“As much as I suspect Sam was intending to embarrass us, I must admit that this is very nice,” Castiel said as he moved in beside Dean, staring out at the ocean as well.

And Dean couldn’t help but agree with him. He also tried to ignore how his angel’s proximity was making his heart do funny things.

But the more he tried to tell himself that he couldn’t have Castiel, the less he wanted to believe himself.

Especially as Castiel had turned from the view and was staring at him again.

Was reaching up to his face, and saying his name with that deep, gravelled voice.

And Dean realized that he couldn’t trust himself.

If Castiel initiated something, possibly not even realize that he had done so, Dean couldn’t trust himself not to take it too far.

Not to ruin their friendship.

And he just couldn’t do that.

So, Dean muttered some excuse about getting food and fled.

He stayed away from the hotel room for hours.

Wasting as much time as possible, he took in the sights, played some arcade games, and ventured from food truck to food truck, purchasing only a small amount at each to make the process last longer.

But he barely tasted any of the food he ate. He didn’t enjoy the sights or the games. And his gloomy mood didn’t improve.

He missed Castiel.

He wished his angel was there with him, experiencing everything alongside him in a memory that Dean could treasure.

But he wasn’t.

Castiel was up in their hotel room where he had left him.

Abandoned him.

Dean was angry with himself, but he also didn’t return.

_It’s for the best,_ he told himself as he slumped down onto a bench at the end of the pier closest to their hotel. He always seemed to migrate back in the hotel’s direction, like a homing pigeon.

The sun was dipping towards the horizon, turning both the sky and ocean a vibrant pink and orange.

He wished Castiel was there.

His phone range and he nearly ignored it.

When he saw the caller ID, however, he picked up.

“Sam.”

“Hey, Dean. Mom told me that you know.”

“Yup.”

“Saw that you checked in, too. What do you think of the place?” Sam’s tone came across full of amusement.

“S’nice,” Dean said.

A pause. “Um, you okay, Dean? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.”

Another pause. “Should something have happened?”

Dean growled warningly, “Sam. Don’t.”

“Dean, I—”

“No,” Dean snapped. “You’ve done enough already. Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

Sam chuckled. “Well, that was kind of the point.”

“Dammit, Sam. You know what I meant.”

“Dean, seriously. I’m only trying to help. Tell me what happened.”

“I told you, nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Do you want something to happen?”

Dean dropped his face into his free hand, the other continuing to hold the phone to his ear. “We are _so_ not having this conversation.”

“You’re my brother. I love you, and I want you to be happy.”

“I am—”

“No, Dean. Listen. Sure, sometimes you’ve been happy, but do you realize when those times have been?” A pause, probably for dramatic effect. Dean sighed. “They’re with Castiel. When Castiel’s been around. I’m not the only one who’s noticed, Dean.”

“We’re friends.”

Sam snorted. “You’re more than that. Even if you’re not involved romantically—” Dean choked on a breath “—you’re more than just friends. You’ve been more than friends for years.”

“Okay, we’re family.”

Dean could almost see Sam’s eyeroll in his tone as he said, “Family that wants to jump each other’s bones maybe.”

Dean opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Finally, “We’re… friends?”

“You seemed less sure that time,” Sam laughed. “Want to try it again?”

Dean heaved out a heavy sigh. “I can’t ruin what we have, Sammy. Whatever it is, I don’t want to lose it.”

It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “You won’t, Dean.”

“You can’t know that.”

“But I do, Dean. And if you took your head out of your ass, you’d see it, too.”

“You’re saying…”

“Castiel likes you too, you dumbass.” Then Sam added, “And I don’t mean in a friendship kind of way. Please don’t make me go into details.”

And Dean thought.

And pondered.

And reflected.

_I wouldn’t want you changed for anything. I love you just the way you are._

_I’m here for you. Whenever you need me. Always._

_I did it all for you, you know_

He was an idiot.

Castiel had never been one to shy away from expressing himself. He always said what he felt.

And he had been sending Dean the same message for years.

Dean had just been too blind to see it. Or too unwilling to accept it as true.

Because he wanted it to be true too badly. Which he also hadn’t wanted to admit to himself.

Apparently, he was just full of self-denial.

Enough was enough. He was so tired of making himself miserable.

And that left him with one option. One action to change everything.

Dean was going to do it.

He was ready.

It was time to seduce an angel.

His angel.

Castiel.

Dean was trembling.

He stood outside the hotel room door with one shaking hand raised, but not quite touching the doorknob to open it.

He sucked in a single breath.

Then another.

His fingers touched the knob.

There was the sound of rustling movement coming from inside. Castiel was up, doing something.

Probably un-packing for the night, Dean thought.

He was stalling.

He closed his eyes.

Opened them.

Turned the knob.

Swung open the door.

And his eyes immediately zeroed in on Castiel’s shirtless back.

Dean froze in place, his eyes roving hungrily over that broad expanse of exposed skin. He had never before realized how sexy a back could be.

Perhaps it was just Castiel.

He was stalling again.

Just then, Castiel, alerted either by the sound of the door or by the cold draft coming through it as Dean stood there like an idiot, suddenly turned around.

Castiel, holding his freshly cleaned dress shirt as he had spent the afternoon sending out their laundry, calling in room service, and exploring the hotel, blinked at Dean, who had just returned to their room and now seemed frozen in place.

“Dean?” he inquired.

Said hunter glanced away, hesitating, but then somehow achieved a renewed determination as he fixed his gaze back on Castiel and stepped forward, properly into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him.

“Cas, I—I’m sorry I ran out earlier,” he began.

Castiel shook his head. “It’s okay.” He had truly believed he had pushed too far, too fast, and had scared Dean off. Doing chores had been the only way to keep his mind off the fear that Dean might not return. Might never want to see him again.

But he had come back. Dean had returned to him, and he seemed… nervous?

Castiel gripped his shirt tightly, feeling nervous himself.

Was Dean here only to tell him to leave? That he never wanted to see Castiel again?

But no, wait, he had apologized for leaving. Maybe… Perhaps…

Dean was shifting from side to side, his anxiety clear.

He should say something. “Did you enjoy your afternoon?”

Dean blinked in surprise. “Uh, no, not really.”

_Oh?_

“But I did have a chat with Sam, which was… enlightening.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Enlightening? How so?”

Dean took a deep breath and stepped forward. “He said somethings that helped me realize some other things?”

It was a good thing Castiel didn’t really need air, because he could barely breath. “Like what?” he managed to choke out.

Dean stepped forward again, some of his natural confidence returning.

“He… He said you like me. Is that true?”

Castiel frowned. “Of course, I like you, Dean. I would have hoped—”

But Dean was shaking his head. Castiel stopped speaking.

His hunter let out a frustrated grown. “I mean, do you _like me_ like me?” Another groan. “ _Romantically._ ”

Castiel blinked.

_Oh!_

“Yes,” he immediately gasped out. And he repeated it again for good measure, “ _Yes._ ”

And it was like Castiel had flipped a switch, because the moment he replied in the affirmative to Dean’s question, a whine had sounded in the back of his hunter’s throat and Dean had reach forward.

Castiel reached as well, and as Dean took a stumbling step toward him, Castiel caught him in his arms.

Hands tugged and grasped until hunter and angel were pressed as closely together as they could be, chest to chest, groin to groin.

Castiel’s face was buried in Dean’s hair, just as Dean’s was pressed against his neck.

And Castiel just breathed.

_Finally._

But the embrace didn’t last long before Castiel pulled back just microscopically enough to look into Dean’s green eyes, which sparkled with extra moisture that hadn’t been there before.

“Does this mean that you _like me_ like me, as well?”

“Yes,” Dean rasped in response. “So damn much it hurts.”

Castiel swore that his wings had returned and he was flying, so happy was he in that moment. So, he said as much: “That makes me very happy.”

Dean chuckled, his laugh and accompanying smile making Castiel’s heart soar even higher.

“I want to kiss you,” Castiel stated bluntly. “May I?”

Dean’s eyes widened and he licked his lips, but didn’t respond. Instead, his hand found Castiel’s neck and pulled him forward.

Their lips touched, softly at first, but it quickly became an inferno of nipping teeth and questing tongues that very quickly sent Castiel’s blood southward.

Their bodies hadn’t separated an inch, but Castiel felt Dean gradually guiding him backwards, closer to the large bed behind him.

Castiel broke the kiss when the back of his legs hit the edge of the mattress.

“So long,” he murmured into Dean’s neck. “Waited so long.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean gasped in return. “Thought you… Worried that you…”

Dean trembled.

“Shhh…” Castiel soothed. He kissed Dean again, gentler than before. “I would have waited however long it took. Though clearly my communication skills still need work.”

“And my observation skills,” Dean joked.

Castiel smiled at his hunter, who was now, _finally_ , truly his, and then swiftly spun them around and gave Dean a light shove.

With a bark of surprised laughter, Dean let himself fall back onto the bed.

Castiel, still shirtless, having dropped his shirt at some point during their embrace, crawled onto the bed himself and maneuvered until he was perched on his hand and knees above Dean.

There wasn’t much talking after that.

Dean heart was exposed, an open hole in his chest. His hands couldn’t stay still, wanting to touch Castiel everywhere all at once. His blood solely located in his face and his dick. And his breath was nowhere to be found.

He had never felt freer or more alive than right then.

Castiel’s body lowered over his own, teasing with the barest pressure, as his angel nipped at the corner of his mouth.

Dean shuddered at the sensation and arched for more. His hands ran across Castiel’s back, tugging him even closer still.

His angel was probably being considerate, but Dean could take his weight, needed to feel it, in fact.

With Castiel now within reach, Dean leaned forward and caught Castiel’s earlobe in his teeth. After a few tugs and a suck that had Castiel groaning and grinding downwards, giving Dean that delicious friction he so desired, Dean released him, only to drag him into another record-crushing kiss.

But clearly, Castiel had had enough of Dean’s shirt, because he pulled back onto his knees and began impatiently ripping at the buttons of the flannel.

“Hey!” Dean cried out at the damage being done to his shirt—he had rather liked that one—but in the next moment, Castiel had pushed aside the fabric, had dipped down, and Dean forgot all about it.

A suck on his collarbone here. A nip at his side there. It continued until Dean was practically squirming on the sheets.

And he hadn’t even realized that Castiel had also deftly undone his jeans until the angel was tugging them off, along with his boxers.

Freed to the open air, Dean shivered.

The chill didn’t last long, however, because Castiel took quick advantage to press himself back against Dean’s naked body. Bare chest to bare chest. His angel’s cock straining against his dress pants to press against Dean’s.

Dean wish that last fabric barrier was gone too.

So, he decided to do something about it.

He ran his hands down Castiel’s chest, tweaking his nipples along the way, making Castiel gasp and nip his shoulder in response, to let the angel know his intentions.

Castiel lifted his hips obligingly and Dean made short work of the button and fly, freeing Castiel’s firm cock as well.

Then Castiel was gripping Dean’s hips and shifting them, causing Dean to grasp at the sheets below him, until their leaking cocks were pressed together, rubbing and grinding.

Dean groaned and arched his hips into Castiel’s, desperate for more of that friction, more of the touch of that cock against his own.

Castiel’s torso dropped towards his, his head pressing into the pillow beside Dean’s as his hips continued to grind downward.

“Dean,” he heard his angel moan in his ear. Dean turned his head to catch Castiel’s eyes watching him. Even breathing hard as he was, Dean shifted his head forward to catch Castiel in a kiss, closing his eyes at the overwhelming sensations.

As their lips battled and their hips continued to move, one of Castiel’s hands remained on Dean’s hip, guiding the rhythm, while the other travelled to their thrusting cocks, enveloping both in a warm grip, moistened by their pre-cum.

Dean hissed at the sensation, breaking the kiss, and their pace increased drastically.

He was so _close_.

His hands released the surely permanently wrinkled sheets, for one to grasp Castiel’s ass and the other to wrap around his back so Dean could bury his face in Castiel’s neck.

And a moment later Dean was tensing and crying out into that neck as he came swiftly and fiercely.

The hottest and highest orgasm of his life.

Just a moment after that, he felt Castiel follow him into oblivion, those shoulders and that ass tensing beneath his hands and more liquid heat landing on his stomach and chest.

They both collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent, and Dean immediately knew that they were going to have to do that again. Soon.

And again.

And again.

And again.

After all, they had ten years of lost time to make up for.


	11. Epilogue aka To Sam's Regret

**One week later, back at the bunker…**

“I can’t believe you. Do you know how damn worried I was the entire time?”

Sam actually stared down at the ground in shame.

“Very worried,” Castiel responded on Sam’s behalf.

Dean had to force back his smile at the angel. He was supposed to be angry.

“Seriously, Sam. How did you even come up with this scheme? How could you think it was an even remotely good idea? Because let me tell you, it sucked.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam replied despondently, staring up at him and Castiel with those puppy dog eyes. “So sorry. I truly thought it would help.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Help? What, with me and Cas?”

Sam nodded dejectedly. “I mean, obviously it didn’t. But I glad that at least it didn’t damage your friendship.”

At that, Dean actually frowned. “I thought you said that you were sure. Before. When we talked.”

Sam sighed. “I _was_ sure, but clearly I was wrong.”

_Ah._

He and Castiel hadn’t spoken with anyone at the bunker since his call with Sam in Los Angeles, other than to text Mary that they were alright and would be returning in a week.

He hadn’t said why, but Dean hadn’t felt like dealing with his scheming family just yet. And besides, he and Cas had been… ‘busy.’

And that was the moment when Dean’s smirk broke through his façade of being angry with Sam.

“You think you failed.”

Sam stared at them curiously. “Didn’t I?”

“What do you think, Sam?” And with that, Dean tugged down the edge of his shirt collar to reveal a hickey that Castiel has given him the night before.

Sam’s eyes widened exponentially before he quickly raised his hands to his face to hide the sight.

“Ugh! Dean! I did _not_ need to see that!”

Laughing, Dean replied, saying, “Better get used to it. After all, it’s your own fault.”

And then he pulled a proud-looking Castiel to him and sealed their mouths together in a kiss, Castiel’s arms wrapping around him in turn.

“Gah!” Sam exclaimed, clearly having peeked at the wrong moment.

Dean could have been more pleased with the results.

Though he definitely still planned to get his brother back, some day.


End file.
